A Perilous Game
by fiona249
Summary: Draco Malfoy is playing a game of revenge and sex - one that involves the seduction of one Hermione Granger. And one which is going to get more serious than anyone suspects. DH compliant, but not epilogue compliant.
1. Love Game

_Let's play a love game_

_Play a love game_

_Do you want love?_

_Or you want fame?_

_Are you in the game?_

-Lady Gaga

* * *

Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table, unable to stop herself from seething as she watched Ron Weasley smile soppily down at his new girlfriend. His new, sixteen-year-old, tall, skinny, blonde girlfriend. Carly Jameson. Oh, she wasn't as smart as Hermione, everyone kept repeating that as if they thought it would comfort the Head Girl. Instead, apparently Carly made _Ron_ feel smart – _Of course_, Hermione thought viciously, _she'd have to be brain-damaged to do that. Perhaps someone transfigured a blow-up doll to life, that'd do it_.

"Hey," Ginny said sympathetically, sitting down next to Hermione. "How are you doing?"

"Perfectly fine," Hermione replied stiffly. "Your brother can date anyone he wants. I have no claim on him at all."

"But I thought you two were pretty much together after that kiss last ye -" Harry said as he grabbed a seat on the other side of Ginny, giving her hand a squeeze. From the way he cut off his sentence, Ginny had squeezed back harder than necessary.

"I'm _fine_." Hermione growled. She tore a roll apart viciously, imagining it was Ron's head. She was _furious_ with him. Even if, she was forced to admit, she probably didn't really have a reason. So, last year they had shared a kiss in the heat of the moment, so what? Immediately after she had taken off to find her parents while Ron spent the summer grieving with the rest of the Weasleys – and, apparently, bonding with the attractive daughter of the Grief-Assistance Healer.

Which didn't mean he couldn't have damn well _warned_ her before they got back! Instead of leaving her to jump up and hug him on the train platform, only to be disengaged as he said apologetically, "Listen, I know you like me, 'Mione, but I'm kinda into someone else. Maybe next term, okay?"

And there on the platform, as people flowed around them and owls hooted, Hermione had to fight not to cry. And then she had to watch as the love of her life enthusiastically kissed a model-esque blonde girl who radiated satisfaction at having snagged a war hero…

Screw this, she _did_ have a reason to be furious with him.

_Maybe next term? _Hermione practically exploded as she recalled his slightly smug expression as he'd said that. Jerk! She was not going to stand next in line. Oh, she wanted Ron back, but not like that – she wanted him back on his knees, admitting that Hermione Granger was the only girl he could ever truly love. His habit of taking her for granted, acting like she would always be around, was beginning to irk her. However, she had no idea how to change it.

Luckily for her, Draco Malfoy did.

* * *

Draco entered the Slytherin Common Room and abruptly attempted to reverse direction. However, it was no good, she'd spotted him.

"Drake-eee," Pansy whined, immediately descending on him. "You've been ignoring meee."

Draco rolled his eyes. "We're over, Pansy. We've been over for more than a year, for Merlin's sake! I'm allowed to ignore your incessant whining and annoying voice now."

Pansy chose to ignore this – just like Pansy, Draco thought uncharitably, only noticing what she wanted. Last night he'd been practically screwing a blonde Hufflepuff right next to her, and she'd kept talking about how they should spend next holidays together. What _was_ that blonde girl's name again, anyway? He'd been planning to keep her on for a few more days, but that didn't seem like it would work if he called her by the wrong name.

"Listen, Drake-eee -" Pansy started to say, but was unexpectedly cut off by the diminutive girl behind her.

"Oh, do shut up, Parkinson, I need to talk to Malfoy."

"Isabelle," Draco said with relief. "Thank Christ. Come on, let's go to my room."

Isabelle Mulciber was in the year below Draco, and quite attractive with her cloudy black hair, tiny pale face and huge grey eyes. However, Draco had no intention of sleeping with her – making her practically unique among the attractive upper-year girls. He'd first met her at the start of his sixth year, when he'd heard a rather stupid Ravenclaw boy mocking her family, saying that they'd all be in jail soon. Her response – "Well, yours will all be _dead_." – had only briefly amused him, but when the Ravenclaw boy had humiliated himself by voiding the contents of his stomach out of every orifice the next day in the Great Hall, he'd realised the younger girl possessed a mind much like his. Twisted, cunning, as sharp and dangerous as a knife. Over the past couple of years she had gradually become something of a younger sister to him – though she'd refused to talk to him for quite some time after she found out he'd kept her out of his plans to kill Dumbledore in sixth year.

"You can't leave when I'm talking to you -" Pansy's screech was cut off as Draco closed the door behind them.

Isabelle wrinkled her small nose. "What on earth did you _see_ in that girl?"

"Like eating escargot," Draco replied coolly. "You sample it once, you feel sick, and then you never try it again. It's not my fault this particular snail seems glued to me. What's up, Isabelle?"

"You're the best one I know at manipulation," she said with no preamble. "And I want to play a game. Not your usual, mind – I know normally you just play to get laid -"

Few people knew the extent to which Draco manipulated those he knew. There was a reason why he'd had every girl he ever wanted: a reason why he had _everything_ he ever wanted. He played these games for sex, for amusement, and for revenge.

"I seldom need the help," Draco said with a complete lack of humility. He smirked as he remembered the blonde Hufflepuff's dizzy expression. "How big is this game you want to play? How many players?"

"I don't want any players," Isabelle sat down on his bed. "I want the rest to be pawns, with no options at all." She drew a deep breath. "The Golden Trio – it's time they learned a few lessons."

"You don't care about the Golden Trio. You don't even know them."

"I don't _have_ to!" Isabelle exclaimed furiously. "Look at us, Draco. Us Slytherins. Our families are in jail, or dead – some of us younger ones are even in jail or dead. We need to get back our influence, and the fastest way to be important to the wizarding world is to be important to those fucking Gryffindors. These days they could say the sky is green and get a worshipful entry in the _Daily Prophet_." She stared up at him, grey eyes certain. "I want Harry Potter."

"Want Harry Potter what? Dead, in prison, embarrassed?" Draco said impatiently.

Isabelle smirked. "I want him as my boyfriend, Draco, you idiot. Think of it – the Chosen One, mine. I have plans after that, of course."

"Knowing you, they involve him being outed as impotent in the newspapers," Draco said absentmindedly, his mind racing. "What's my part in this? Go flash him some boob, or something. You're better looking than the Weaselette."

"Please," Isabelle said, oozing purebred disdain. "Even _Pansy_ is better looking than the Weaselette. But I don't just want to screw over Potter like that – I want to wreck the whole Golden Trio. I want none of them to ever talk to each other again. Complete separation so that Potter has no influence but mine. I want each of them miserable and alone – I want the world to know that Slytherins always come out on top, and Gryffindors don't." Isabelle grinned. Draco, looking at her, realised Isabelle was, in her own way, much more vicious than him…

"Ambitious," Draco grinned back wolfishly. "I am, of course, in. I'll work on destroying his friendship with his little buddies… that should be easy. After all," he said, suddenly seeing in his mind's eye Granger's curvy little figure. "I already have an idea." His grin widened, his boring year beginning to look up. Granger might be filthy, but… he played these games for sex, for amusement, and for revenge, and with Granger it would be all of those. He was looking forward to this.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "You're going to sleep with her, aren't you."

"Oh, yes," Draco said, still smiling. "If you taking Potter is a coup, then me sleeping with Granger and then dumping her will be a coup d'etat magnifique."

"Oh, don't you French off at me," Isabelle said rudely. "Just do your part. The Weasel, the bookworm." With that she flounced off.

Draco quickly moved to open the door and follow her. He was reasonably sure he knew where Granger would be at this hour… where she always was. In that little alcove in the library which you couldn't see from the entry.

* * *

Ten minutes later Draco was in a position in the library where he could watch Hermione Granger without her seeing him. And she was a sight, indeed.

Her warm brown eyes were so utterly focused on the book she was reading, with such a fierce desperate enjoyment, that it was very nearly sexual. In fact, when licked a finger and quickly flipped a page before burying her head back in the book, Draco found his mouth got a little dry. She was so _intense_ about this… he found himself wondering what she would be like in bed.

Most of the girls he slept with had been a little bit cold. Oh, certainly, they folded quick enough when he touched them just right, but there was always that uncertainty right at the start. It wasn't that they _fought_ him, nothing like that, but it was more like they were calculating what _they_ had to gain.

Sometimes he got the impression that nearly every one of them believed that they could trade sex for something else. Gifts, a relationship, even just notoriety. One, that slutty Gryffindor girl with the flowery name, had even slept with him because she felt left out and behind the fashion. He hadn't known whether to be amused or insulted – which hadn't stopped him giving her what she wanted, of course.

Granger would be different. He had experienced her fierceness – a slap that left him winded, a wand to the throat. He just knew that she would be the same in bed. That if you pushed her, she would fight for control, trying to take charge; that if she really wanted to, she would be in it fully and completely…

Suddenly Draco realised what he was doing and gave himself a mental slap. _Of course she won't be like that_, he scolded himself. _She's a snotty, stupid little virgin. Personality won't make a difference. She'll be lousy in the sack._

What was important – why he was watching her – was to find his way in. Oh, he knew he wanted to fuck Hermione Granger. And while he was doing it, he'd make sure she told him every single weak spot he could use to make the Weasel hate Harry Potter. Getting Potter to hate Granger, now, that would be simple. Potter would hate her as soon as he walked in on a scene where his best little friend was gasping under Draco Malfoy, begging him. A scene that Draco would be sure to organise.

The trouble was… what _was_ his in with Granger? She wasn't the type to fall for a pretty face, and as a perpetual virgin it was unlikely she craved sex.

Draco watched Granger flip yet another page, her brown eyes widening as she scanned it. Could he play on her sympathies? That would be time-consuming. Oh, he could do it, probably. She'd certainly seemed sympathetic enough at his trial when he'd spun a load of crap about how redeemed he was.

But still, that would take weeks. Maybe months, if he was using affection as a tool to try and get her into bed. And though Draco could normally be patient in his schemes, her hot body was definitely putting a time limit on this one.

Suddenly Granger threw the book down and buried her face in her hands, before bringing them down as fists. Draco felt his body come alive with excitement. _That's it_. Her face may as well have been broadcasting her feelings: anger, pain, and even guilt. Granger was experiencing a cocktail of emotions, and in the mood to be rebellious.

And what better rebellion than screwing him? Oh, not at first. He could wait a week or two.

Draco got up from his hiding spot, and swung into her little alcove. "Hey Granger. The little Weasel hurting you again?" he smirked at her frigid expression.

"None of your business, Malfoy," Granger said, her voice arctic. "Go away."

Draco continued as if she hadn't spoken. "You know why, don't you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and said in a singsong voice: "I'm a Mudblood, I'm ugly, blah blah blah. Go aw-"

Draco laughed. "Oh, you aren't ugly. One of the hottest bodies in our year." He let his eyes rake over her blatantly. "Your face isn't even that bad."

Hermione was shocked. Him complimenting her was so unprecedented, she couldn't think of what to say. Plus, she was sort of intrigued – if Malfoy didn't think it was her looks, what did he think it was? Then she realised. "My personality. You think it's my personality -"

"Oh, stop assuming, Granger. You can't pull it off," Draco scoffed. Inwardly he was rejoicing. She'd stayed. That meant he was on the right track. It was all Weasel King for this idiot. "He's put up with your personality for years; I doubt that's it. No, you know what it is?"

"What?" Hermione leaned closer to him. She had to _know_ why she was never good enough for Ron, never quite enough. What was it about her that made him want something else?

"You're asexual, practically," Draco said coolly. He leaned into her as well, so that even when she jerked back a little she could still feel his breath on her face. "A hot body, but you don't walk right, you don't talk right. You don't know how to be sexual because you've never been sexual before."

Hermione leapt back, whacking into the nearest shelf. "I am _not_ having sex with you!" she eyed his smirking face, feeling like a deer trapped in the headlights. She was horrified, but she still couldn't bring herself to storm out. "Or anyone else, for that matter!"

"Calm down, Granger, I wasn't talking about having sex," Draco gave her an exaggeratedly innocent look. "I was thinking I could _teach_ you to be sexual. With not even any kissing involved…" _Well, for the first lesson, anyway_. "Tonight. The old Divination tower."

"What the hell, Malfoy?" Hermione stood up. "I won't be there. I won't be _here_; I'm going now."

"Granger!" Malfoy called out as she left their tiny space. When she looked back, he smirked. "Oh, you'll be there. Got your little happy ending, didn't you? No one mentioned you'd be bored stiff. You are, aren't you? Last year you were running around masterminding plots for destroying the greatest evil we've known… this year all you have to look forward to is being Head Girl. And you don't have anyone to take your mind off of it, what with both your buddies being too busy having tons of sex."

"I don't -"

Standing up, he moved uncomfortably close to her yet again. He just stared for a moment, as she stood there frozen, and then he ran a finger slowly down her cheek, like a teardrop. "Oh, you can cry your little tears," he said softly. "Moan about how the Weasel doesn't want you, how Potty doesn't need you. You can be the boring little bookworm everyone expects you to be." He smiled, that razor's edge of a smile that made his striking face seem suddenly dangerous. "_Or_… you can be someone else. You can be someone who makes Weasel pant. Someone who does the forbidden. Someone who meets an old enemy in an abandoned classroom after curfew just because she likes the risk…"

"Malfoy…" Hermione said warningly, but she could hear her voice shake a bit. It sounded so _incredible_, to be someone different. To be someone interesting.

Draco turned and started walking away, only to glance back with yet enough sharp little smirk. "See you there."

* * *

**Yeah, this is just something that wouldn't get out of my head. I don't know if I'll continue it, but even if I do it won't be for a few weeks – I have exams.**

**I know this Draco is a bit darker than my last – well, a lot darker. And a manwhore. But I still love him. Please tell me what you think!**


	2. Why Can't I

_Here we go, we're at the beginning_

_We haven't fucked yet, but my head's spinning_

-Liz Phair

* * *

Hermione paced the classroom again. Why _was _she here, at the top of the unused Divination tower, instead of asleep in her own bed?

Well. She knew why she'd come originally. There had been that moment today, after Draco had left.

Ron had walked into the library and sat down next to her. "Listen, 'Mione, I know things have been weird between us lately, and I want us to go back to normal." He stared at her with big blue eyes, and as always she felt a rush of affection for him. It had always been all about Ron for her.

Then dump your brainless sex toy, she wanted to say back. But of course she hadn't. "Of course, Ron, I want us to be friends too," she'd said strongly, expecting that to be the end.

"Good!" Ron rubbed his hands together awkwardly. He looked happy, though, and very relieved. "I knew you'd see it my way. When you get to know Carly, she's really nice. You'll get along great with her -"

_What?_ "I'm sure I will, Ron," Hermione smiled tightly. "I'm just glad we're going to be acting like friends again. Besides anything else, it's really not fair to Harry and Ginny for us always to be putting them in the middle."

"Right, right," Ron bobbed his head in agreement, and unfolded his lanky body to leave. "Thanks, Hermione. I knew you'd be sensible."

"Sensible," she'd echoed, suddenly going cold.

Ron nodded again and smiled at her. "Well, you're always sensible, and reliable, and logical."

_And boring_, Hermione had realised.

Ron clapped her shoulder in a matey way before walking away, which made her want to kill him. But it lit a fire in her, as well – a desire for some type of revenge on Ron, for thinking of her like that. _Reliable. Sensible. _Spending time with Draco Malfoy… well that would be an act of revenge he'd never know about. But _she'd _feel much better for it.

She refused to think about the tiny flame of hope that Malfoy could make good on his word, and bring Ron back to her.

For some reason, she was sure Malfoy wouldn't stand her up. He had looked so intense that she couldn't imagine he wasn't serious. Knowing him, he probably had some trick planned, but Hermione was sure she could handle it.

"You must have come early," the familiar drawl came from the doorway. Draco Malfoy stepped into the room, his white-blonde hair gleaming in the half-light. He sat a bottle of wine down on the table with a clink, followed by two glasses, and poured a generous serve into each. When he tried to hand her one, she reached for the other. Draco, looking faintly amused, toasted her and drank his down.

Hermione stared suspiciously for a second at hers – but after all, he'd drank his, and so with a shrug she drained hers too. "It's good," she said belatedly as the taste hit her. Now she regretted downing it so fast, but all her experience with alcohol before had been that faster was better in order to avoid the taste. She handed the glass back to Draco and he made it disappear with his wand, along with the rest of the wine.

"Now, I don't have too much time." He flashed the same killer smile at her as he had earlier. "Of course, it shouldn't take _too_ long to teach you to be sexual. You're a hot piece of ass." His gaze fell on her breasts.

Hermione flushed with anger, and crossed her arms over her chest to cover them up. "Stop it, Malfoy!"

Draco sighed, collapsing lazily into the nearest chair and beckoning for her to sit down too. "I see I spoke to soon. Granger, men staring at your chest is _not_ the same thing as harassment."

"I'm pretty sure it is, actually," Hermione said stiffly, remaining standing.

"You're an idiot, Granger," he said, almost fondly. "It's not lechery. It's _appreciation_. Admiration. It should flatter you, not horrify you."

"No it shouldn't!"

Draco lazily lit the candles on the table with his wand. "So much to learn, Granger. Let me figure out a way you can understand this." He stared at the flame for a moment. "Power. Control. You understand those, right?"

"No, I don't," Hermione sat down grudgingly. She was aware her constant denials weren't making the conversation progress any faster, but she couldn't help it.

"Yes?" Draco said conversationally. He placed the tip of his finger into the hot wax, swirling it. It must have hurt, but Hermione noticed he showed no signs of pain. "They're what my aunt took away from you." In her rush to stand up, Hermione knocked the chair over. Draco fixed his silvery eyes on her face, a look of almost sympathy on his handsome face. "They're what you give Weasley, every time you show him you want him. You have power and control over other people because you know more than them… and you _love_ to know more than them. Don't tell me you don't understand power and control, Granger. Don't tell me you don't want them." He beckoned to the fallen chair. "Sit _down_."

Despite her better sense, Hermione sat back down, pulling the chair back up with one swift wand movement. "Alright… I'm not saying you're right, but go on, anyway."

"Every time a man looks you up and down, and makes it obvious he likes what he sees, he's giving you power over him," Draco continued softly. Lit by the candles, his eyes glowed molten silver. "Control. He's saying he wants you. But even if you don't give him what he wants, he's still giving you that power over him."

"So you're giving me power over you?" Hermione flared, some of her spirit returning.

"Maybe," Draco lifted a wax-covered finger, and stared at it as if it was just an abstract concept with no relation to him at all. "But power is only there if you're brave enough to use it."

"I'm brave," Hermione said stubbornly. Her mind was elsewhere, though. She couldn't help picturing herself walking through the Great Hall, and feeling male eyes on her – all of the watchers, in their mind, picturing doing wicked and dirty things to her.

Before this had seemed like an intrusion, disgusting and wrong. Like they were somehow making her powerless by picturing her that way. But Draco was right, wasn't he? She might be powerless to stop them staring but they were powerless to stop her leaving. And what would they do to see her naked? How much did they want her?

As if it he'd heard her, Draco continued his little speech. "Men will do a lot to have sex with a beautiful woman. But, even if they know there's no chance of sex, they'll still do a lot for her smile… her hug… a kiss on the cheek… even just a compliment."

"You think I'm beautiful?" Hermione couldn't help the dazed question that burst from her mouth.

He continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Of course, a beautiful woman who doesn't act like a woman has very little power at all. I don't mean that in a sexist way – it's more like how no one tries to court a blow-up doll."

_Well, except Ron_, Hermione thought bitterly. "What do you _mean_?"

"You act like a human being," Draco stated flatly. "But you don't act like a woman. It's like you don't realise that you've got hips, and you've got breasts. You dress to cover everything up. Women can walk faster when they swing their hips but you don't even do that. It's like you're afraid of being noticed for your body instead of your brains."

Hermione jerked back, stung. "I'm not afraid! And I do so act like a woman!"

"Prove it," Draco said simply, and in a flash he had grabbed her hand. She tried to pull back, but he held it firm, and placed his wand against it.

"Malfoy – Malfoy – NO!" Hermione squeaked as he muttered a spell. She yanked her hand back to her and examined it.

It was covered with honey.

Hermione raised her eyes to Draco's. "Prove it," he repeated. "Lick the honey off, while I'm watching." When Hermione hesitated, confused, Draco gave a little one-sided smirk that blazed smugness. "Just as I thought. It's not even like I'm asking you to lick it off my chest, or something." _Later for that._ "You really can't do anything sensual, can you, Granger?" Hermione hissed something very rude, but then raised the hand slowly to her mouth. It _was_ just honey, after all. _I can do this_, Hermione thought strongly, but it still seemed a little bizarre to her as she began licking. How on earth was this sensual?

She understood several slow licks later, when she looked back up at Malfoy. The silver eyes were burning more intensely than she'd ever seen, and his cheeks were flushed.

From watching her. Just from watching her.

Hermione kept her eyes on him as she licked her way up her thumb. The contrast between the sweet honey and the taste of her skin made her feel odd, and light. The look in Draco's eyes made her feel even lighter. She sucked the tip of her thumb gently – the suction felt nice. Draco caught his breath.

Hermione sucked the honey off each finger in order. When she finished and pulled her hand down, Draco's moved up to her face. His index finger was covered in honey.

The spell of the quiet, the candlelight, the sweetness of the honey and Malfoy's expression kept Hermione from objecting. She pulled the hand even closer, and started to lick around the base of the finger.

_She's a natural_, Draco realised, dazed. _She'll be a genius at giving head._ As she sucked his finger, Hermione's curled tongue rasped the tip of it. Imagining it as the head of his cock, Draco could barely keep in a moan. It was the way she _licked_, the enjoyment with which she tasted the honey, the slight sighs at the sweetness she couldn't contain. It was her eyes, too, the abandonment in them.

Hermione, meanwhile, felt like she barely existed as a real person at the moment. It must have been the unaccustomed wine, drunk so quickly, soaking into her bones and heating them from within. All she was, right now, was this – this strange but perfect moment was all she wanted and needed. Her breasts felt odd, and her stomach felt even stranger, and she could feel waves of heat coming from the man who was so close to her right now. She could smell him, and the scent of his cologne seemed ridiculously sensual. She wondered what he'd do if she leaned her body in, until she touched his chest. Through his thin shirt she could see it was muscled and probably rock hard... she pictured her softness pressing against his hardness, her nipples tightening against him, the heat inside her growing stronger as he -

Draco pulled his finger out of her mouth. Hermione jerked back, suddenly realising what she'd been doing. What she'd been picturing. How wrong and weird this all was. "Oh, don't," Draco said roughly. "Don't go all Princess Virgin on me now."

He leaned in, kissing her - not the rough kiss Hermione had been expecting, but a slow, sweet one. It was short, only a few seconds long, but when he pulled away she could feel her heart-rate had sped up. Draco enjoyed the taste of the honey, passed on from her mouth, and the undeniable taste of Hermione Granger that mixed with it.

"I'm _not_ having sex with you," Hermione repeated the statement she'd said earlier that day, though a great deal of the conviction was gone from it now.

"Didn't ask you to," Draco replied coldly. _Yet_. "Kiss me. Harder."

"_What_? No -" Hermione was cut off as Draco grabbed her hands and trapped them hard against the tabletop with his own. When she stared up at him, horrified, his eyes were no longer silver: they were granite.

"Do it," he said, immovable. "Or I will for you." Hermione tried to choke out a protest, but his voice seemed so filled with certainty that it was hard to say anything. "Did you think this was just a _game_? It's a lesson, and this is what you're here to learn: sex _can _be a game, but you don't always make the rules." He released her hands again. "_Do it_. You want to learn Weasel's body? Learn this first."

Hermione felt even stranger. She didn't know why, but this room seemed like a separate world. One where she didn't have a name, or morals. Where there was no past or future and only the present. She was an invisible being – no purpose but for the one he gave her. There was a strange feeling in that - the utter and complete freedom which accompanies having nothing but the moment.

She leaned in and slanted her mouth over his, pretending at being the one in control. She didn't have much experience with kisses, really - several chaste ones with Victor and that single burning moment with Ron. She cautiously put her ams around him, feeling even more awkward. Hermione didn't feel sensual, at all, she just felt clueless. Malfoy didn't move at all - he stood there, insolently, forcing her to take charge. Like she was a slave, pleasuring him with her kisses while he stood there all indifference and arrogance. Hermione deepened the kiss - _harder_, _he said harder_ - and moved closer to him. Pressed against him like she'd imagined earlier. She felt the lines of his muscles against her and suddenly it didn't matter how indifferent he was - _she _wasn't. She felt her breath grow quicker, her breasts heavier, the swirly feelings in her stomach intensify. Hermione was moving against him, kissing him until she felt like she was trying to mold into him. Against her passion he moved backwards, until she was pressing him against a wall, her hot little hands moving up inside his shirt.

Draco detached her gently as she started to touch his chest. She moved back, panting and dizzy with the heat.

"It's okay," he said, his voice soft. "That's enough, that's all I meant." _Slap, then kiss_, thought Draco. It was all part of the game - not _the _game, the one he was helping Isabelle with, but the smaller game he was playing with Hermione Granger. Dangerous, then safe; nasty, then kind; sexy, then sweet - what better way to confuse and ultimately seduce a girl like Granger? Though he had to admit, she'd impressed him - and horrified him a little, too, since he hadn't expected to enjoy this quite so much. Her dirty blood ceased to matter when she touched him. Beneath her veneer of chasteness, Granger was _hot_. She wanted sex very badly indeed.

And the best part was, she didn't have a clue. She didn't know that he could see her shiver every time he gave a rough order, and take an unnecessary breath whenever he smirked at her. Her eyes were always moving to his body. Oh, Granger might be very smart indeed, but underneath that she was desperate for this.

Hermione stared up at him, uncomprehending. Why hadn't he taken it further? After all that, she had expected him to try for more. For him slam his mouth over hers. For him to touch her - _Shut up, brain_. Maybe he really was just trying to help her – certainly, he didn't seem to be after sex. If it had been someone else, Hermione might even have felt rejected. Of course, since it was _Draco Malfoy_, she couldn't feel rejected. She wouldn't let herself feel rejected. "What do you mean?"

"I'm here to teach you, that's all," Draco said firmly. He hesitated, looking deliberately defenceless for a second. "I trust you, Granger. I'd appreciate it if you'd trust me – I'm not going to take advantage of you, and I don't want to move this teaching so fast you get scared off."

"You really are just trying to help me, aren't you?" Hermione said softly.

"Of course," Draco replied, making it sound obvious. "What else could I possibly be doing?"

"Oh," Hermione sat back down. She couldn't help flushing a bit. "This feels awkward." She frowned, why had she said that? It felt like the shield between her brains and her mouth had a hole in it. She hadn't been able to stop the sentence popping out. "I mean, really awkward."

Draco moved to the chair next to her, looking concerned. "Maybe that wine was a bit too strong for you, I'll bring lighter stuff next time." He paused for a second. "Okay, how about, to make this less awkward, we talk like friends? Um," he looked like he was searching for a topic. "How's Potter, these days?"

"I don't want to talk about him with you, Malfoy," Hermione said, not unkindly. There was another slight, pause, and then sentences came rushing. "He's busy. He's so in love with Ginny he can't see straight, though apparently she keeps saying she's 'not ready to get _that_ serious' whenever he brings up the topic of sex. They're both virgins, you know."

"Yes?" Draco drawled, shifting closer to her and staring. He was pleased that she'd moved instantly to the exact subject he wanted information on. "Go on, Granger." He casually touched her arm, and she jerked away as if burned, letting out a shuddering breath. Draco noted with interest that the small hairs on her arm stood up from the casual contact.

"Plus, Ginny gets jealous. She's always worried he'll find someone better…because everyone wants the Chosen One," Hermione couldn't believe she was saying all this. "She even gets jealous of _me_ sometimes, even though she knows that can never happen." Hermione clapped both hands over her mouth, and spoke through them. "Okay, you were right about the wine," she said, her voice muffled. "I'm going to go now."

Malfoy smiled and reached out a hand, to tuck an errant curl of hair behind her ear. Hermione's skin felt weird where he touched it, like it was fizzing. "All right. This time tomorrow?"

"Day after," Hermione took her hands away. "I'm busy tomorrow." She couldn't believe she was coming back, but somehow she couldn't stop herself. She didn't want to lose this strange, alternate world. "I shouldn't. I really shouldn't."

Malfoy caught her hand for the fourth time that night, but this time only raised it to his lips in a mocking parody of a gentleman. "Do you want to?" He stood there in his dark clothes, his pale hair and skin warmed by the candlelight. Hermione noticed his high cheekbones, his large silver-grey eyes framed by their extravagantly long lashes, his soft lips set disingenuously into a cruel slash - he was handsome and fair enough to be an angel, but she knew the fallen kind when she saw it.

In the flickering candlelight, his looks seemed almost otherwordly. He was everything forbidden, everything wrong, and everything desirable. Dangerous, hard and dark. And so sexy Hermione could barely breath looking at him.

"Yes," Hermione said. "Yes, I do."

* * *

"How are you going detaching the Weaselette?" Draco said casually to Isabelle. They were sitting in the Common Room. "I mean, I know it's only the first day -"

"You aren't the only pro in this game, Malfoy," Isabelle smiled at him. "Today Ginny Weasley walked back into a classroom because she'd forgotten her books, and she found a _sad_ little Slytherin girl crying her eyes out." Isabelle gave a slight curtsey. "_Moi_."

"And you told me off for using French," muttered Draco. He was not in a particularly good mood despite his success with Granger - he'd run into that Hufflepuff girl on the way back, and she'd asked in a cutesy voice how he was. He'd guessed her name as Helga - turned out it was Hannah, so that was a fail. So now he was all heated up with no way to let it out.

"I told her I knew I was in the wrong house," Isabelle smiled dreamily. "That the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Gryffindor, but I made it put me in Slytherin because otherwise my parents would hate me. And she fell for it, of course. _And_ introduced me to Potter, who I treated like a normal person. He seemed charmed – but then, why wouldn't he?"

"I did better," Draco said, as usual completely ignoring modesty. "Granger has plans to meet me nearly every day." He laughed. "She is _such_ a Gryffindor, even with all her brains. Drank the wine I brought and never even realised I'd put a small amount of Veriteraserum in…"

"I'm surprised she drank," Isabelle remarked. "Or did you pretend to drink too in order to put her at her ease?"

"Oh no, I drank," Malfoy said cheerfully. "But the Veritaserum was only in her glass, painted on the sides so she couldn't even see the liquid there. With such a small amount…"

"Well done," Isabelle said approvingly. "I knew you were the right choice for this."

"And then I got her hot for me, but stopped shortly after she said she wasn't going to have sex with me," Draco sighed regretfully. "Truth potion, dammit. Maybe next time…But now she trusts me, and she _definitely_ wants me. She's in the mood for rebellion. And she told me some interesting things about Potter."

Isabelle leaned in closer to him. "Yes?"

"Tell me, Isabelle… has your new friend mentioned the words 'not ready to get _that_ serious' to you yet?"

* * *

**So... opinions about the Draco/Hermione scene? I intended it to be sort of sexy, but I'm not good at writing that. It just turned out weird. Maybe when exams are over I'll rewrite it better. Somehow. What do you think of it? Please review!**


	3. Hurts So Good

_Even though sometimes_

_It's hard for me to bear_

_I make myself hold on_

_It kills me I don't care_

'_Cos baby I don't want you to ever quit_

_Oh, it ain't no good til it_

_Hurts just a little bit._

_Don't you know that it hurts so good?_

John Mellencamp

* * *

"Oh, hello, Isabelle!" Ginny Weasley gave her new friend a wide smile, and tried not to be annoyed at how effortlessly pretty she looked. It was something in the defencelessness she wore like a cape that made Isabelle Mulciber seem graceful and beautiful, instead of actual physical attractiveness – despite her air of beauty, she was in fact rather average-looking. But, after all, Harry liked strong women, didn't he? So she was safe…

_You're being paranoid again_, Ginny mentally scolded herself.

"I know it's an imposition, Ginny," Isabelle looked up at the older girl with wide, scared eyes, "But a friend of mine wanted to meet you." She leaned in and whispered to Ginny. "He's not really a friend, he scares me a bit. But he _does _want to meet you."

"Oh?" Ginny sat down besides Isabelle, and spooned some mashed potatoes onto her plate. "Who?" A figure sidled into view, taking the seat opposite Ginny, who nearly spat out the mouthful she'd just taken. "_Zabini_?"  
"Sorry to startle you," the dark youth said, not looking particularly apologetic. He flashed a grin, very white against his tan skin. "I… I just wanted to meet you, I guess."

"We've met," Ginny said coldly, darting a glance at Isabelle, who looked positively miserable. As always, the sight of someone looking scared and hurt made Ginny soften, and she turned back to Blaise determined to be at least civil.

"I know," Blaise looked down at the table top, looking ashamed. "That's why I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to apologise. For last year. And, you know, the year before. And all preceding years." His lips quirked in other smile. "It's a very big apology. I have a speech if you want to hear it -"

"Why do you suddenly care about apologising?"

"It was wrong of me," Blaise said firmly. If he was having any trouble remembering the speech Isabelle had given him, it didn't show. "I was trying to fit in, because I'm not from here and I knew that if I didn't go along with the rest of the Slytherins they'd make my life miserable. But that's no excuse for quoting Dark Lord dogma and acting like a bastard, last year especially." He took a deep breath, like the next sentence would be painful to say. "I'm sorry. I'm _so sorry_. I want to make it up to you."

"Why me specifically?" Ginny had completely forgotten her food and was staring at Blaise in amazement.

Blaise buried his head in his hands for a second, looking agonised. "You were the one I was worst to. I mean, I was kind of screwed up last year, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'll do _anything_ to make it right."

"Um," Ginny groped for words. "Er." She suspected _You're lying, you bastard_ wouldn't go down well. Besides, what if he wasn't lying? Then she'd hate herself. "Yeah, okay. How about we just… be friends?" Ginny grabbed a sandwich to go. "I've got class. I've got to go. Bye, Isabelle… Blaise…" Ginny shot off. This was way too weird for her.

There was a short pause, before Isabelle spoke again, in a tone that would have shocked Ginny Weasley. "Well done. Laying it on a bit thick, though, aren't you?"

"I was brilliant and you know it, even with your crappy script." Blaise leaned back in his chair, amused. "And what about you, with that _shy widdle voicey-woicey_? Pathetic. How can she fall for that?"

"She's a Gryffindor," Isabelle said dismissively. "But I suppose you're right, I'll cut down on that. You have done… adequately. Keep working on her, we're on a timetable, the big press conference is in three weeks. You'll get your reward. Three nights, starting tomorrow."

"I thought we said four?" Blaise wheedled.

"Honestly, Blaise," Isabelle allowed herself one thin, calculating smile as she left the table. "What kind of girl do you think I am?"

* * *

Hermione Granger knew exactly what kind of girl _she_ was. _You stupid, embarrassing… AAARGH! _The smell of honey seemed like it was haunting her, and every time she smelt it she felt so ashamed she thought she would die. What had she been thinking? What was she thinking, planning to meet him again? And what on earth was she thinking now, coming up here even though it was only mid-day?

"Hello, Granger," the smooth voice came from behind her, on cue. "And we weren't meeting until tonight… so eager?"

Hermione's face instantly went bright red. She wheeled around, until she was facing the blonde boy. "Shut. Up. Malfoy." She ground out. "Why are you always so up yourself?"

"You've met me socially twice before," Draco pointed out, unfazed. "I think it's a little soon for 'always', isn't it? You never know, I might be adorably sweet once you get to know me."

"Fat chance," Hermione muttered, her gaze fixed on the ground. She felt him come closer, and then suddenly he was lifting her sweaty hand in his cool one and touching it to his cheek. Surprised, she looked up.

"It's okay," Draco murmured. "I find that I've been looking forward to seeing you again, too. You're quite…unique." He knew he should be laying it on thicker, but it was hard to lie to Hermione Granger. Anyway, he doubted she would believe sickening, saccharine speeches.

He let go of her hand and leaned down to kiss her – gently, again, of course, no matter how much he wanted to kiss her with passion and fierceness; he couldn't afford to scare her off at this point. She broke it off by simply leaning back. "What are you doing?" Hermione wanted to know, confusion plain in her voice. "Why do you keep kissing me? I mean, you're supposed to be _teaching _me -"

_Screw gentle. _"Well," Draco growled, "Consider this a prac." He slammed his mouth over hers, holding her in place by fisting one hand in her messy ponytail. She tried to back away for a second, but Draco knew a token resistance when he felt it, and pushed her against the wall. He liked the feeling of trapping her for his use.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but all that did was allow Malfoy to plunder her mouth with his tongue. The protest faded to a moan as he slid a finger down her stomach, tantalising stopping just above her curls and then moving to the curve of her hip to rest. The other hand pulled her head back, using the ponytail like a leash, so his clever mouth could move to her neck.

Hermione gasped again as he started sucking a spot there, unable to hold it in. It felt _so good_. "Oh God," Hermione struggled for breath to speak. "No, don't, this is a bad idea, we really shouldn't -" She gasped again as he bit gently, her knees turning to water. "_Draco_."

Suddenly, he pulled back so she could see his face. He was smirking, but his cheeks were flushed. "You said my name," Draco noted, striving to appear unaffected by this, and glad she was so inexperienced she couldn't tell how aroused he was by her. He hadn't been this interested in a girl since – well, ever. Perhaps it was because they were enemies. "I _like_ that," he moved closer to the breathless Hermione again, until he was pressing her completely against the cold wall. He smiled again as he thought of how, before the month – maybe even the week – was over, he would definitely get to fuck her against this wall. "Say it again."

He felt her hesitation, and captured her mouth again, sliding both of his hands up her waist until they were cupping her breasts under her shirt, pushing her monstrosity of a bra upwards out of the way. Hermione made a funny little noise under her breath, but didn't try to squirm away as he stroked her nipples lightly with his thumbs. _And I thought it would take a lot of effort to talk her into more than kissing_, Draco thought. _It seems I was too modest – or I underestimated her. _He broke the kiss again, looking at her expectantly. "My name, _Hermione_. Say it." He slid his hands back down to her waist, deciding not to push it too far.

With an unexpected wrench, Hermione pulled herself completely away from him. "_Malfoy_," she said shakily, backing away quickly. "See you tonight, Malfoy."

He bowed his head, conceding the point. "See you tonight, Granger."

* * *

"Zabini," Malfoy said thoughtfully. "Why Zabini? Along with Plan A for Astoria, don't you think the Weaselette is going to wonder about the sudden influx of Slytherins into her life?"

"That was before you gave me that information about her jealousy. Now Astoria is later on the menu." Isabelle said dismissively. "Now I know that it will be easy to get rid of her, I need to give the Chosen One a reason not to chase after her." She gave a little laugh that made Draco feel strange – there was something about the high-pitched, unrestrained happiness of her laugh that reminded him of someone. "Her sleeping with Zabini will be the obvious one."

"She won't do it," Draco said with complete certainty. "I have – prior knowledge – of her faithfulness."

"You tried to seduce her?" Isabelle asked gleefully. "And she turned you down?"

"No, of course not," Draco was abrupt. He stood up and stretched, feeling the sudden need to leave this room. Besides anything else, it was only an hour until his meeting with Hermione – he had homework to do, and he wanted to take a shower as well.

He tuned back into Isabelle as he left. She was still speaking, but it seemed to be addressed mainly to herself. "It doesn't matter whether she does, it just matters what darling Harry believes."

As he opened the door to his room – which, as one of the few eighth years, he no longer had to share – it struck Draco just where he'd heard that laugh before. So innocent. Childlike, even. Saturated with such simple happiness.

Aunt Bella, of course.

* * *

"Ronnie, that was _brilliant_," Carly gushed, grinning at her boyfriend. "Zis is why oo is my sweetheart."

"All I did was pass you a quill," Ron protested. As hot as Carly was, sometimes her baby-talk annoyed him.

Carly batted her eyes. "But the _right _one! My favourite quill! How did you _know_?"

If Ron had been in the mood for relationship suicide, he would have replied that the quill's scary hot pink sparkles had clued him in. Instead, he eyed her breasts through her paper-thin top and simply remarked that it had just been a hunch.

But inside, Ron Weasley was beginning to wonder if any amount of hotness was worth Carly's utter inanity.

* * *

"Zabini," Harry said, unknowingly echoing Draco Malfoy's words. "Why Zabini? Isabelle seemed so nice -"

Ginny had a momentary lapse in self-confidence, wondering just _how _nice Harry thought her new friend was. She squashed it, resolving to be a better friend. Ginny needed more girl friends, after all – Hermione was really the only one she had, and if she and Harry ever broke up, Ginny would lose her too. In order to make up for her second of distrust, Ginny said strongly "Isabelle _is_ nice. She wasn't friends with Zabini, she even kept apologising all through class for giving in to him and introducing us. He pressured her into it." She rolled over so she could face her boyfriend.

They were lying on Harry's bed, which always made Ginny slightly uncomfortable. She didn't know why she hadn't had sex with Harry yet – she did love him, after all. It was more like Ginny was scared that if they did have sex, it would somehow break the spell, and Harry would see her for exactly what she was. A boring, tomboyish, freckled little redhead whose only possible attraction to the Chosen One was her family. Ginny couldn't risk that, not yet. Maybe in a couple of months…

"Penny for your thoughts," Harry said jokingly, rolling over as well so he and Ginny's faces were barely a centimetre apart.

"Oh," Ginny came back to earth. "I guess I'm just wondering if Zabini's telling the truth. He seemed… actually pretty genuine." She rolled onto her back again, so she was staring at the ceiling instead of Harry. "He even helped me with my Charms work when I couldn't find Hermione."

"You should have checked the library," Harry said flatly. "I don't trust Zabini."

"I _did_ look in the library for her," Ginny hissed. "I'm not an _idiot_. And you don't trust any of the Slytherins, really, do you?"

"I have more experience with them -" Harry tried to say, but Ginny cut him off with a snort.

"Please! I was the one who was here while the Carrows ran the school, and Slytherins like Zabini were helping them out. I've been _tortured _by Slytherins, Harry! If I can give him a chance, so can you. After all, we're giving Isabelle a chance, aren't we?"

"That's different," Harry said stubbornly. He meant it was different because Isabelle hadn't deliberately tried to befriend Ginny, and because she'd never done anything against them before, but Ginny took it the wrong way.

"Oh, because she's pretty and an innocent little girl? Let me guess, if Parkinson got hotter you'd forgive her too?"

"No -" Harry began, shocked, but Ginny had already swung herself upright.

"I'm going to bed," she said coldly, stalking out of the room. "Goodnight, Harry."

* * *

Meanwhile, Hermione entered the room to find Malfoy waiting, looking intense. She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off. "You know what want, Granger. Please. You are _not _that much of an innocent." He didn't smile or move, but just stood there staring at her. "What do _you_ want?" He waited, and then smiled, as if Hermione's speechlessness had given him the answer he wanted. "How about we don't speak at all?" Draco suggested huskily. "Let this lesson be just a hands-on kind of one?"

All of Hermione's good sense pointed out exactly where this was going – towards sex with Draco Malfoy. There was no other interpretation. But for once, she couldn't think sensibly. Over the last few days, whenever she thought about her interlude with Draco, she'd felt hot. And then today – Hermione Granger couldn't lie to herself. She wanted him. _And it isn't as if I've got a boyfriend to betray, is it?_ Hermione had always believed she would lose her virginity to Ronald Bilius Weasley, and despite his actions she still believed they would end up together, but – he'd hurt her. He'd hurt her badly. And maybe now Hermione Granger was in the mood to do things she shouldn't.

She'd thought the best revenge against Ron would be to spend time with Malfoy, and maybe, with his instruction, work out how to be sexier, leading to Ron's eventual return on bended knee. But that was when she'd thought Draco Malfoy would never want to have sex with her, and that if he did she would be too disgusted by him to go that far.

She'd been wrong on both counts. Hermione wanted this. There was no reason to say no.

"Yes," she breathed her surrender as he moved towards her, already reaching out, wanting him. "Hands-on sounds good."

* * *

**This is a bit OOC for a lot of character, especially Mione, I know. Sorry. I might put "OOC-ness" in the summary. It's just, I like to think of Hermione as a bit unpredictable. Look at what she did to Rita Skeeter, her romance with Victor Krum, not telling anyone Lupin was a werewolf, and owning a secret time turner - let's face it, she was never was as predictable as Ron and Harry thought.**

**This is kinda new ground for me, as a fanfic writer. Feedback is always appreciated!**


	4. Undisclosed Desires

_I want to reconcile the violence in your heart_

_I want to recognise your beauty is not just a mask_

_I want to exorcise the demons from your past_

_I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart_

-Muse

* * *

_This is way too easy_, Draco thought, staring at the girl – no, the woman – in front of him. If he forced himself to forget that this was Hermione Granger, Draco could see that she was beautiful – tumbling chestnut curls, wicked curves, sensual lips and burning brown eyes. Even the flush her cheeks had acquired seemed to have been purposely added to improve the effect.

But he _couldn't _forget this was Granger. On the one side, that greatly added to the attractiveness. She was his sworn enemy, and since her blood was impure she was effectively forbidden fruit. That made her hot as hell to Draco.

But some stupid, unheeded part of him wanted to ask if she was _sure_. It wouldn't shut up. A normal person would probably have considered it a conscience, but Draco Malfoy prided himself on his ability to completely ignore his conscience so it obviously couldn't be that.

_Alright_, he decided after considering for a few seconds. _We won't go all the way. Not tonight, anyway. _He glanced around the room – tables, chairs, walls, floor. _She deserves better than this for her first time – fuck, what am I thinking? This is _Granger_, she doesn't deserve _anything_._

Banishing all these distracting thoughts from his mind, he strode over to Hermione and grabbed her, kissing her fiercely. She responded immediately and with abandonment, leaving behind her prissy exterior as she pressed herself against him, trying to get their bodies as close as possible. He grabbed her hips and pushed her away a little. When she broke the kiss to look at him in confusion, he murmured "We have _hours_, you know."

_I'll think of this as a test_, Draco thought wildly as Hermione restarted the kiss. _A personal test of my own self-control. _If he wasn't going to sleep with her tonight – which was actually a good idea, since that might give her the silly, prejudiced, _accurate_ impression that all he wanted was sex – he was going to have to be controlled. It was already hard (hell, _he_ was already hard) to control himself just from having felt her delicious curves soft against him.

Hermione tried to move her hands up his shirt, so Draco grabbed her hands and held them behind her back, without stopping the kiss. When she pulled away yet _again_, her face full of annoyance, he couldn't resist giving her a small smirk. "My way, Granger." With a little growl, Hermione managed to break his hold by slamming forwards, but the momentum sent her forward into Draco, who lost his balance and fell over with her still wrapped around him.

"Guess it's my way now," Hermione said breathlessly. Draco was still unable to speak from his hard fall to the floor, but since he had broken Hermione's fall she was fine. In fact, she was practically straddling him, and realising that, Hermione moved so that she was effectively pinning him, even reaching to put her weight on his wrists in the apparent belief that would render him unable to move. Draco watched, narrow-eyed, as she slid up a little until she could feel exactly how much he wanted her.

Hermione gave a little gasp, as though she really hadn't been expecting his hardening erection pressing against her. Draco barely suppressed a moan as she writhed against him, trying to place herself in exactly the right place for her own enjoyment. "My way," she whispered again smugly, before kissing him with a roughness Draco would never have expected of Hermione Granger.

Refusing to allow her the advantage, Draco simply rolled them over, proving how completely ineffective her weight was at keeping him down. Now, with his full weight on her, she could barely move at all. Of course, since she was still moving against him, and now his whole weight was on her, it didn't do much to ease Draco's current dilemma. He rubbed himself against her – unable to stop himself from pursuing at least a little enjoyment – before moving a little bit down her so they weren't nearly as close. Her sharp intake of breath and glazed eyes were his reward.

The next fifteen minutes were more like a battle than kissing, in Draco's personal opinion. Hermione tried every way to move against him, to touch him, to force him to lose all his control, and she savoured every little success. The slight noise he made when she managed to slide his shirt upwards, the shudder that went through his body when she brushed her breasts against him, his ragged gasp when she bit his lower lip – all these were Hermione Granger's victories, the proof that he wanted her every bit as badly as she wanted him.

Draco, in return, fought for distance. He pulled her away at the same time as he kissed her senseless, using every trick possible to drive her wild while keeping his own concentration and control. But sometimes he really couldn't resist. When Hermione managed to drag his shirt partway off, in retaliation he ripped hers away, revealing her clean white bra. _Like the virgin schoolgirl she is_, Draco thought, dazed and hot. He wanted to rip off her dowdy skirt, too, and see if her panties matched.

_Well, why not_? Draco slid even further down her body, breaking their intense kiss. He ignored her noise of protest, too busy with unfastening her skirt. _Too complicated_, he decided, simply flipping it up. It was so unfashionably long it nearly covered her face, and made Draco appreciate why he and the others and taken so long to notice Granger had fantastic legs. He slid his hands along them, marvelling at the silky texture. It made Draco feel almost holy to know that no boy before him had probably ever gotten to stroke up her thighs. He slowly moved his hands to her hips, holding them lightly but firmly.

Hermione made a little gasping sound. "Draco – don't-" From the sound of it, she'd only just worked out what he was doing. He wondered with amusement where the little innocent found out about this. As basic as it was, she seemed so very clueless that he doubted anyone had ever talked about things like this with her. Probably she'd read it in a book.

He didn't bother removing her white cotton panties and just shoved them to the side. Fine dark little curls made a triangle pointing towards exactly what he was looking for. Draco liked the naturalness of that – he was used to girls who were always completely prepared for encounters like this and shaved in advance, and it was irresistible to see that tangible sign that this was completely spontaneous.

Hermione tried to move against his restraining hands, but he simply tightened his grip. She couldn't see exactly what he was doing because of the folds of her voluminous skirt, and the unpredictability of it made every moment a sensual torture.

Suddenly she felt his mouth against her most sensitive area and moaned. He wasn't kissing her clit, exactly, he was just touching it so lightly she could barely feel it, touching just enough to send her mad with need. She bucked a little, unable to keep in a small whimper. She heard his light chuckle, and then he blew on her damp clit, causing her to emit a louder whimper.

One of his hands left its tight grip on her hip, moving quickly down to join his mouth. He pushed a finger inside her slowly, rubbing her with the pad of his thumb. Every little brush of it sent off a whirl of sensations through her body – heat, everywhere, contrasting with the coldness of the stone floor on her now-bare legs. She tried to thrust against him again, panting, needing _more more more_. _Please more_.

"Just a minute," Draco rebuked her. "I'm trying to find the right spot…" His finger moved deeper, and was joined by another. His thumb left her clitoris.

_You found it, my clit, it's there, you passed it on the way in, go back –_

Unexpectedly, his finger hit an area on the inside of her that caused her to jerk as if she'd been shocked. The passionate, almost painful pleasure of it was indescribable. "Found it," he said breathlessly, and moved his mouth back down to her.

Hermione gasped, writhing against him, unable to control her own rioting senses. His tongue was moving against her _oh god oh god_ and so was his finger, he was stroking that incredible spot again and again, timing it with his tongue _please now _so that the feeling came and went with such force that it made her desperate for the full pleasure. She reached her hands down to try and grab him and ended up fisting her hands in his pale blonde hair, babbling nonsensically, pleading him. "Oh please Draco Merlin God please now please please _please -_" even though she had never experienced what she was begging for, she wasn't able to do anything else.

And his mouth moved more fully over her, creating the same perfect suction she'd felt sucking honey off his finger, and the feeling made her arch into him mindlessly. His mouth was moving just right to create the most intense sensations, his fingers were thrusting deeper, and Hermione Granger came for the first time ever.

It was more incredible than she could have possibly imagined, so much so that she could not stop a scream, or her fingers tightening wildly in Draco's hair. Spasms wracked her body as she crushed herself desperately against him. She didn't know how long it lasted – it could have been seconds or minutes – but eventually Hermione was just lying there, breathing hard and still feeling the aftershocks of her incredible climax. Draco rolled off her once she released his hair, lying down next to her. He shifted up so that their heads were beside each other.

Hermione rolled onto her side, exhausted, her arm automatically falling over his chest so that she was half hugging him. She even unthinkingly cuddled against him, pressing her face against the bare skin of his chest. "Wow," she whispered in awe.

They lay like that for longer than Draco would ever admit.

* * *

"Want to study together again tonight?" Blaise gave Ginny what appeared to be a completely natural smile as he plunked himself in the seat next to her. It felt so early in the morning that a tired Ginny was astonished he _could _smile. Harry was busy down the other end of the Hall, having been stopped by yet another crowd of adoring fans. The students of Hogwarts had decided to become complete sycophants toward the Chosen One after his dramatic defeat of Voldemort, and it pissed Ginny off.

She sighed. "Sorry, no."

"Oh," Blaise didn't even try to hide his disappointment. Ginny thought his face was honest like Harry's – you could nearly always tell what he was thinking. Perfectly straightforward. She didn't know that Isabelle Mulciber considered him the best actor in Slytherin despite his lack of the innate cunning that characterised her and Draco Malfoy. Blaise Zabini was able to make anyone believe anything, when he tried. "Right, I get it. It's okay that you don't want to be friends -"

"No!" Ginny said quickly, seeing the hurt in his face. Ginny had always been soft-hearted towards lonely boys, a trait she'd kept even after the events of first year with Tom Riddle. It was, after all, one of the things that had drawn her to Harry. "I want to be friends, it's just -" She hesitated, and automatically glanced over at Harry, who was still trying to disentangle himself from a very grabby Romilda Vane.

"Potter," Realisation dawned on Blaise's face. "Merlin, two days of friendship and I'm already causing you problems. I'm so sorry. It's fine, I can see why he would worry. If he's banned you from seeing me, I'll go -"

"_Banned_?" Ginny said too loudly, attracting the attention of several other Gryffindors, who were already curious as to why she had a Slytherin at her table. "Banned?" she repeated quieter, and opened her mouth to explode at Blaise.

And stopped.

After all, _hadn't_ Harry pretty much banned her from seeing him?

"I don't obey my brothers," Ginny said strongly. "And I _definitely_ don't obey my boyfriend. We'll be friends if I want us to be friends."

"And do you?"

_He looks like a sad puppydog,_ Ginny thought despairingly. "Of course we'll be friends. Let's study. I have a free now. How about we go to the classroom opposite the tapestry of the mermaid transvestites?"

"Oh, that makes sense," Blaise smiled at her, as open and honest as the sun. Ginny couldn't help wondering how she'd never realised he was a nice guy before – he must have just been overcompensating, trying to act like a Slytherin too much in order to fit in. "That way Potter won't see us, and get mad at you."

Ginny grabbed the bag by her side and dropped it onto the table with a heavy thump. "Screw that," she said grimly. "We'll study right here."

* * *

Draco was trapped. Granger's arm was curled around him – not Granger, _Hermione_, he corrected himself. She'd certainly said Draco more than a few times before. He smiled slightly as he remembered her yelling his name.

He felt – warm, even happy. So turned on he was considering trying to persuade Helga back to his bed, but still, happy. Like he'd temporarily lost that complex darkness that was as much a part of him as his own name. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that after any kind of sexual experience. Oh, there was always a sort of thrill from it, but this was different. Perhaps because he hadn't immediately gotten dressed and left afterwards.

_I would if I could_, Draco assured himself of this fact, glancing down at Hermione. Her eyes were closed, but he wasn't sure if she was actually asleep. He also knew he couldn't just take off without possibly destroying the fragile trust they'd built, which was every bit as important as the sexual relationship – and not just because the continued existence of the sexual relationship most likely depended on it. Next time, he would have to get more information for Isabelle, and that required trust.

They should really get going, though. They'd met so damn _late _at night that it was already morning now, and he was willing to bet it wouldn't be long before students were everywhere. He made a mental note not to meet girls after three in the morning in the future, especially if they were the kind who fell asleep and clung.

Suddenly Granger opened her eyes, a look of shock on her face that prompted Draco to make a cynical comment. "Let me guess. You're so disgusted and ashamed you're going to run away and be a dragon trainer."

"Maybe," she said, a soft smile appearing and the horror fading. Then she seemed to control her emotions, becoming much more business-like. Draco, watching the speedy transition of these emotions, couldn't help but be impressed by her quick mind. She detached herself from his body. Draco watched in surprise – he'd never seen a girl as eager to leave as he was. "Thanks. You're a _very _good teacher." She stood up.

"Thanks, I try," Draco said dryly. "Morning classes for us eighth years aren't for a few hours, today. Going back to bed?"

"Yes, I don't want anyone to find us here," Hermione said coolly. "You'd better go back to your bed too, you don't want to get caught by patrolling prefects."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Great advice from the esteemed Head Girl. Don't you -" Draco cut himself off, but the sentence ran on his head anyway. _Don't you want to cuddle? All girls want to cuddle! _He had enough sense to recognise that if he said it, she would either reject him, which would make him look pathetic; or she would enthusiastically get to the cuddling part, which Draco absolutely _hated_. "Tomorrow night, Hermione."

"Hermione?"

Draco smirked. "Don't even try to pretend I don't have the right to call you that now. Or should I call you 'Mione?" He stared at her, noticing a strange flash in her eyes, a bizarre mix of emotions. Draco believed in the whole 'woman scorned' thing, but it seemed even to him that there was something more behind Hermione Granger's sudden desire to taste the Dark Side – in a very literal way. Not that he would ask. _After all, everyone has something extra they're running from – the most damaged part, the one they never let anyone know._ Draco had his own scarred spots and would never dream of sharing them. "Anyway. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Draco," Hermione replied, and then slipped into the shadows.

Draco noticed how quickly she disappeared, melting into the darkness. It was if she had never been here at all, and the room seemed somehow colder for it.

* * *

**Ladies and gentlemen, I give you: The Gryffindors. They trust Professor Quirrel, hate Snape, trust Tom Riddle, doubt Dumbledore, trust a very-suspicious-acting Moody and fear Sirius Black. And now trust Isabelle, Blaise and Draco. Aren't the good guys great judges of character? **

**Also, you may have noticed chapter titles have changed. This is because I'm officially bored with thinking up names, so I decided I'd just call them after the song I choose. Much simpler.**


	5. She's The Blade

_She's the blade and you're just paper_

_You're afraid cause she's got closer_

_You're back-steppin and she's back-stabbing everything in your life_

- Sugarcult

* * *

Draco groaned as he rounded another corner. The Patil girl was standing there, right in front of the entrance to the Great Hall. He hadn't seen her for a week, which had led him to conclude – wrongly, apparently – that she had finally given up.

"Merlin, not you _again_," Draco sighed.

"Yes, me _again_!" Parvati's voice went so high-pitched it made Draco wince. "You've been ignoring me _all year_!"

"It's only the fourth week," Draco pointed out logically. He jerked his arm away from her as she tried to catch it, and kept walking. This forced her to skip, rather pathetically, beside him as he entered the Hall. "It's a little early for complaints about the whole year. Come back in six months," He paused for a second to sweep her body with his eyes dismissively, "Or when you're better-looking."

"You said you loved me!" Parvati said, looking furious. "Remember, you said that -"

Draco stopped, wheeling to face her. "I lied. We slept together, once, _last year_." His voice was silken, but held an edge of cruelty that made the girl shrink back. "That doesn't make you my girlfriend. Don't force me to be any clearer. You will regret it."

Completely disregarding his warning, Parvati kept talking. "You like me, you know you do."

They were just close enough to the Ravenclaw table to be heard, and Draco was tired of this girl. Besides, wrecking her life might just afford him amusement. "I don't like you," he said, loud enough for most members of the table to hear – including Padma Patil. "Honestly, you know how I work – after all, you knew I slept with your sister three weeks before you. I only slept with _you_ because you were desperate to prove how much better than your sister you were -" Parvati's face went ashen, and in the corner of his eye Draco could see Padma turn red with either humiliation or rage.

"You said you only slept with _her_ because you wanted _me_!" Parvati retorted, foolishly prolonging her embarrassment. Padma gave a little squeak, frozen in place. From her expression Draco judged the sisters were not going to reconcile anytime soon.

Draco sighed. "I lied. You really are a stupid little slut, aren't you? I slept with you because you said you were quite good. Which proves I'm not the only one who lied," he smirked at the horror on Parvati's face. "For someone's who's had as much sex as you reportedly have, you were a complete waste of time in bed – hasn't anyone ever told you that it's better to _move_, instead of just lying there squealing like a stuck pig?"

"I – you – but -" Parvati tried to protest, but her eyes were filling with tears in her pale face. "You _bastard_."

"Hallelujah, the dimmer twin finally worked it out," Draco said ironically. "Yes, I am a bastard. But of course, you're something of a bitch, aren't you? Why else would you have spent half an hour telling me what sluts your sister and best friend were? '_She slept with Ron Weasley, just because he's famous'_," Draco imitated Parvati's voice cruelly. "'_And my sister would screw a Skrewt if it kept still_'. Trying to put me off them. How pathetic." He gave her a nasty little wave and moved to the Slytherin table without looking back.

"You know, someday a girl is going to get so angry she'll kill you," Isabelle commented. At his glare, she shrugged. "Like I _care_. But your little princess was watching."

Draco's eyes flicked automatically over to the Gryffindor table, but then he controlled himself. "She couldn't have heard from there. And even if it gets to her in rumour form… who cares? It will be a valuable lesson, and we all know how much she likes to _learn_."

"Draco Malfoy, destroyer of hearts," Isabelle mused. "I don't see the attraction. Of course, tonight I'm going to."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. How so?"

Isabelle leaned in so no one could hear. "If you aren't busy with the Little Princess, I have a mission for you. Blaise is keeping the Weaselette out of the way, which gives us a fascinating opportunity."

"Oh yes?" Draco asked lightly. _Only Isabelle could refer to a girl a year older than her and four inches taller as a 'Little Princess',_ he thought in amusement. "My princess is unfortunately busy ruling her kingdom – doing rounds," he explained at Isabelle's confused look. "I've made sure I know when she has them, so I don't make meetings with her during them. Her rejecting me would look bad."

"Even when no one's watching?" Isabelle smiled sweetly. "But at the moment, there _are_ people watching. So if you excuse me, I will go sit with Blaise before one of our new _little friends_ sees we have a connection."

"As stupid as they are, I doubt it," Draco poured himself a drink. "And as stupid as Zabini is, you may have to remind him not to kiss your neck."

Isabelle's eyes danced, like she'd just seen a puppy do something clever. "Oh, you worked out our payment plan."

"Prostitution," Draco noted. "I'd thought better of you."

Isabelle grabbed his inner arm where no one could see, pinching so hard Draco winced at it. "We're _Slytherins_. You hadn't thought better of me. We do whatever we have to. And now – well, now there's a time limit."

Draco jerked his arm away from an angry female for the second time in ten minutes. "A time limit? Do tell. Autumn mid-terms, yes?" He gave her one of his rare genuine smiles. "Don't look at me like that. It's obvious. That's when Potter's biggest article is being written – an A to Z list of how he conquered the Dark Lord. I'm even being interviewed for my part in it over the midterms, which was miniscule to say the least. As his girlfriend, you'd definitely be invited."

"And it's in three weeks," Isabelle added grimly. "I need him to dump the Weasley girl – or vice versa, I'm not picky – and fall for me in that little time. Meet me at nine tonight, by the mermaid tapestry."

"The _transvestite _mermaids?" Draco casually took a sip of his drink.

Isabelle gave him one last glare. "Don't be late." She moved away.

* * *

Draco leant against the door to the Charms classroom, almost insulting in his insouciance. They'd just finished the class but Hermione Granger hadn't left the room with everyone else – too absorbed with muttering incantations at a rather confused looking mouse. "You're looking lively, 'Mione," he said loudly.

Noticing him at last, Hermione whipped her head around, and then anxiously checked the room for anyone else, relaxing slightly when she saw it was empty. "I suppose," she said coldly.

"Though I remember you didn't get much sleep," Draco said in an undertone, approaching her to kiss the back of her neck.

Hermione hitched her shoulders, trying to move away. "Don't. Just don't." She sounded almost panicked. "Anyone could come in."

"And see us kissing, true," Draco caressed her cheek lightly. "Don't tell me that doesn't make you want it more." He grabbed her chin, pulling her head around so their lips were barely an inch apart. "Say my name."

She barely managed to get out the first syllable before his mouth came down on hers, hot and persuasive. He drew away almost immediately, but let his hands continue roaming her body tantalisingly.

"You like how forbidden this is, don't you?" he said softly. "How _wrong_ it is. How _reckless_." He noted with delight that she shivered at each stressed word.

Hermione moved away, struggling to put space between them. "Don't. I'm seeing you tomorrow night, we can -"

"Do things in the dark?" He gave her a smile that was darkness made solid. "You like the dark, don't you? You aren't Hermione Granger there. You can do whatever you want. Whatever – _we –_ want." He moved forward and nibbled the curve of her neck where it met her shoulder, making Hermione gasp. Yet again, he moved away as if they were dancing – forward, back, forward, back. "See you then, sweetheart."

* * *

"You're studying with him again tonight? In that empty classroom?" Harry frowned. "I'm not sure I like that."

"I'm not sure I like being told what to do, either." Ginny flared up. "And yet, you'll notice I'm not hexing you."

"Calm down, Gin!" Harry held up his hands in surrender. "I'm not telling you to do anything. Just… be careful, okay? Or -" he added quickly, a brilliant idea occurring to him. "I could come with you, make sure he doesn't -"

"I can take care of myself," Ginny said coolly, before relenting. "Thanks for the thought, but to be honest I think you scare him."

"I scare the tall African Slytherin?" Harry said incredulously. "Yeah right."

Ginny flopped back into the armchair again. "He's not that great with magic, and you defeated You-Know-Who. Of course he's a little intimidated by you. Besides, he's just so -" she searched for the words. "Sweet. And a little lost, among the other Slytherins. I get the feeling I'm one of the first people he's really tried to be friends with." Ginny smiled. "Cheer up. You can spend the evening with Ron."

"And Carly? I'll pass," Harry said dryly. "Last time she put her hand on my leg and said she'd heard threesomes were out of this world."

Ginny winced. "Okay, that was a nasty mental picture to have – my boyfriend, my brother, and my grief counsellor's daughter. How about Hermione?"

"Theesomes don't seem like her sort of thing," Harry said promptly, and then yelped when Ginny punched him playfully. "Okay! She has rounds," Harry said dolefully. "That's one of the things about us both being Heads – one of us is pretty much always on duty, it takes up so much time. Besides, she'd tell me to do my homework."

"Seamus? Neville? Dean? Luna?" Ginny felt frustrated as he continued to shake his head. "Get a hobby. Write a book. I don't know. I have to go meet Blaise now – it's nearly eight. You'll find something to do." With that she hopped up and left.

"Yeah," Harry said, unaccountably depressed. "Guess so." Harry folded up a piece of paper into an aeroplane shape, and flew it around the room, trying to beat his miniature Firebolt to the wall. It was boring since he could make the paper go much faster, but he couldn't be bothered to find anything else to do.

"Hey?" Isabelle's lilting voice made the greeting sound more like a question. "Sorry to interrupt -"

"It's fine," Harry said firmly, sitting up. "I'm bored anyway. Are you looking for Ginny? She's not here." He frowned. "Actually, how did you get into the Gryffindor Common Room?"

Isabelle looked even more nervous at the direct question. "S-s-someone left the p-portrait hole open, and since I just wanted to see Ginny I didn't think it would do any harm -" This was, of course, a lie – Isabelle had gotten a particularly prejudiced house-elf to tell her the information. How pureblooded a witch was meant everything to some of the older ones.

"It's fine," Harry said again, smiling at the younger girl, trying to make her more comfortable. "But like I told you, she isn't here."

Instead of leaving the empty Common Room like he'd expected, Isabelle simply sat down on the chair next to him. She pulled a piece of paper out of a pocket and quickly magicked it into an aeroplane. "Race you, then?" she suggested. "Since we've apparently been left to languish?"

"Languish," Harry echoed. "Good word. I've got to warn you, though, I'm very good at paper aeroplane flying, unbelievably skilled -"

"Beat you," Isabelle said, her meek voice making it even more unexpected.

Harry gaped. "I didn't say go!"

"And while you were arguing I beat you again."

Harry found a smile reluctantly growing on his face. At least someone had time for him, even if it wasn't his first choice. "It is _on_," he said. Isabelle grinned back at him, making her tiny, pale face come alive. Without thinking, Harry reached out to tuck a wisp of dark hair behind her ear. "It was getting in your eye," he said quickly, realising what he'd done as she blushed and raised a hand to where his finger had brushed her face. "Anyway. We need some ground rules. Firstly, _someone_ has to say go -"

"Ready, set, go," Isabelle said. "The game is _on_." _In more ways than one_.

* * *

While Harry and Isabelle were bonding, which would probably have horrified Ginny had she been there, Draco found Astoria waiting next to the mermaid tapestry. "Talk quietly," she said in an undertone, "And come this way. They're in there studying."

Draco let Astoria draw him a little way away. "Why _are_ we so close to where Zabini and Weasley are?"

"Because, Potter knows where they're meeting, so it will be more believable if the rumours have them making out in this area," Astoria smiled at him, as refined as always. "Isabelle extends her apologies for the last-minute switch, but apparently her loverboy was lonely. I trust I don't disappoint?"

Draco laughed. "You know you don't." Astoria was darkly beautiful, with an exoticness that made her appear older than her seventeen years – and, despite her sophisticated upbringing, she was as casual about her affairs as Draco was. This had led to them enjoying nights together more than once. "Pass us the potion."

"The redhead's or Zabini's?" Astoria teased. "Actually, I didn't know Isabelle had told the details to anyone but me."

Draco snorted. "I'll stick with my own gender, thank you. And I sincerely doubt Isabelle has told the details to anyone, including you. That's not her way. I guessed about the potions. Mulciber is not as clever as she thinks she is."

"True," Isabelle acknowledged, handing him a small vial of polyjuice potion labelled 'Zabini'. "But let's not tell her that because my parents will be so _disappointed_ if I die before I graduate."

Draco sculled the potion, trying not to wince at the taste. It was like something fizzy which had gone flat, and rather flavourless too. Astoria drank hers with every sign of enjoyment – "Sweet, but with a tang," she proclaimed. "Quite good. I wonder what you taste like?" She shot him a sideways glance, brimful with mischief. Her hair started to turn red.

Draco found himself smiling back, even as he felt his skin start to bubble and turn much darker. "You've experienced that multiple times, Astoria, and are about to yet again."

The second the transformation was finished, Astoria crashed into Draco. He kissed her back, curiously, savouring the knowledge that he was experiencing exactly what Harry Potter experienced when kissing his girlfriend – assuming, of course, that Ginny Weasley knew that little trick with her tongue that her doppelganger was currently using to great effect.

"Where are we going?" He managed to say, between kisses, as she forced him backwards with her phoney passion.

"Two students," she gasped, "Hufflepuffs – on the nearest balcony-"

He manoeuvred her out the door quickly, not stopping the embrace at all. The second they were out there he lifted her to sit on the thick stone wall that edged the high tower, kissing her as passionately as possible. Draco pretended not to notice the noise of two startled people near them springing apart, though he monitored them with lidded eyes.

Hufflepuffs, yes – quite young ones, from the look of it. Fourteen, tops. Undoubtedly their horror was only from being caught making out – though when they realised exactly what they were witnessing that would change. Draco moved his kisses to Astoria's neck, and she followed his lead by flinging her head back so that the nearby lamp lit up her freckled face and red hair. One of the watchers gasped, and Draco took that as his cue to spin and face them, fake shock on his face.

Astoria raised her head as he let go of her, confusion on her face. "Blaise? What is it -" she squealed theatrically as she pretended to notice the two Hufflepuffs. "No – I – it's not what it looks like -" she babbled, wringing her hands. Draco gave her a slight smile, impressed by her skills. "Don't tell anyone – please -" She turned back to Draco as she started to run away. "Blaise – I'm so sorry -"

"Ginny, it's okay -" Draco responded before cutting himself off and turning to the Hufflepuffs. "That didn't happen!" he said to the Hufflepuffs, making himself bluster as Blaise undoubtedly would have done in this situation. Draco himself would have been so cold and controlled they never would have dreamed of sharing what they saw, but since he wanted them to spread the facts it seemed best to stick to pointless, fearful threats that would ensure these two told everyone. He rushed out of there, following Astoria.

She waited around two corners, wearing a sly smile that looked out of place on Ginny Weasley's face. "Want to go to your screwing room, now?" she said casually, referring to the old bedroom Draco had discovered near the Astronomy tower which he used for his illicit liaisons now that the Room of Requirement had been burnt out. "We have to wait out this somehow, don't we?" Astoria did a little twirl. She'd wisely left off her giveaway Slytherin colours, and looked in every way to be Ginny Weasley. "After all, I bet you'd love to have sex with the Weaselette."

"Not at all," Draco said coolly. "She reminds me too much of her brother, which i probably what attracted the Pothead in the first place. But now Ginny Weasley will have absolutely no alibi to prove she wasn't kissing Blaise Zabini – _except_ Blaise Zabini, who I doubt Potter will consider reliable. I'm going back to my room – my bedroom – to do some work. I suggest you hide for the next hour."

Astoria pouted. "Awww, but I was looking forward to finding out everything possible about this girl's body."

"Well, I don't want to find out _anything_ about Blaise Zabini's, so I'll take a raincheck, thank you," Draco said, before relenting slightly. "You can wait in my _screwing room_, as you so elegantly put it, by yourself. Current password is _Honey_."

Astoria saluted, something she never would have done while wearing her usual body – Astoria Greengrass prided herself on her reserve and elegance while in public. In private, now, that was another matter. "I'll be there if you change your mind anytime in the next hour. Or in the Common Room if you change your mind after then."

"I'll keep that in mind," Draco promised, remembering with pleasure the last night they'd spent together. But for some reason, he knew he wouldn't be taking her up on the offer tonight.

* * *

Hermione Granger felt weird and itchy as she walked the corridors. She wanted to have sex with Draco Malfoy, and she couldn't stop thinking about it. Why _hadn't_ they had sex the other night? Didn't he want to? Or did he think she didn't want to? It might have only been a few days since they'd started this strange affair, but somehow Hermione wanted him so badly she felt like she would scream if she didn't have sex with him soon.

It was weird, but it was like she'd woken up to the fact that she had a body after all these years clueless. When she'd had a bath earlier Hermione had hesitantly tried touching somehow of the places Draco had handled so thoroughly last night, and had felt weaker but similar sensations. It had been incredible. It was like all the hormones she'd ignored had hit her at once and now Draco Malfoy was all she could think about.

Tomorrow night. They were meeting tomorrow night. And if he didn't make it _perfectly _clear he was going to take care of this unresolved lust, Hermione Granger was quite prepared to make him do it. Even if she had to explain to him exactly how _much _she needed this.

Hermione didn't even think this was a distraction from the pain of watching Ron anymore – or from the pain of other _things_ which she had no intention of telling anyone about. Sure, it still hurt when she saw Carly giggling on Ron's lap or stroking his neck, but Hermione had found the ache nearly went away when she pictured Draco's naked chest. And was replaced by another ache, but one different from the agonizing kind…

She was surprised when she noticed Ginny ahead of her, talking to Blaise Zabini – but hadn't Harry said something about those two becoming friends? He had seemed very bothered about it, for some reason. Hermione wondered if part of it was jealousy. But that seemed unlikely, since he had to know Ginny would never –

Hermione's jaw dropped as Ginny gave Blaise a very thorough goodbye kiss before scampering off in the other direction. Blaise, meanwhile, looking unfazed, walked to the left, towards the Slytherin rooms.

She had to sit down. What the _hell_ had she just seen? Should she tell Harry? Shouldn't she? Hermione put her face in her hands. Her previous thoughts completely disappeared in this new whirlwind.

* * *

Ron, meanwhile, was completely clueless about anything that was happening. As always, when he'd suggested spending some time with Harry Carly had pouted and whined that he loved Harry better than her. Hermione? Well, Ron didn't even dare suggest that.

So, like always, he was treated to Carly's Fashion Show – her three hundred different robes, tried on in order, and he had to give opinions about all of them. "Do you think this one makes my eyes pop?" she wheedled, giving him her best smile.

Where three weeks ago Ron would have been amazed that he'd never noticed the gloriousness of her smile before in the crowd, those weeks of enforced time together in the castle had given him an entirely different viewpoint. Now he wondered how he'd never noticed how annoying her voice was before – surely at some dinner or breakfast he must have noticed this annoying shrillness?

Yes, Ron Weasley was falling out of his infatuation, and he was falling out hard.

"Ron, darling! I _said_, do you think this goes with my eyes?"

"I think…" _I think we should break up. I think we're not right for each other. I think we should see other people. I think that what I felt – what I _feel_ – for Hermione is ten times this, and I just didn't realise it. _"…I think you look great in it."

"Oh, you're such a sweetie-weetie," Carly gushed, embracing Ron.

"Yeah," Ron said woodenly. "Yeah, I guess I am."

* * *

**So. Opinions? Thoughts? Like or don't like? My last exam is on Monday, so had to write this kind of fast to get back to studying.**

**By the way, the song **_**She's the Blade**_** is supposed to refer to Isabelle, not Hermione/Ginny/Astoria/Carly.**


	6. The Storm

_They sicken of calm, those who know the storm._

-Dorothy Parker

"Ginny, wait!"

Ginny turned to face Hermione, noticing that her face was bright red and troubled. Never a good sign – knowing Hermione, she'd gotten ninety-nine percent on a test, which was like Chinese water torture for Hermione Granger. "What's up, 'Mione?"

"We need to talk," Hermione said quietly, dragging her friend into the nearest alcove. "Ginny, I _saw_ you."

"Yes," Ginny said, confused. "You're seeing me now. Are you okay?"

"No, I mean _I saw you_. Kissing Blaise Zabini," Hermione elaborated when Ginny still looked confused. "Last night."

Ginny laughed. "Funny. What's really the matter?"

"Ginny, I need to know what's going on. You're my friend, but Harry's my _best_ friend -" Hermione's face turned even redder and she looked like she might cry. "Listen, if it was just a one time thing, an accident, you could tell him. I _know_ he'd forgive you -"

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?" Ginny said, only remembering at the last second to keep her voice down. She continued in a whisper, "I have never kissed Blaise Zabini. I'm never _going _to kiss Blaise Zabini. Whatever you thought you saw -"

"I saw you," Hermione said softly. "And I'm sorry, Gin, but I'm not going to ignore the truth just because you're denying it. What you're doing isn't fair to Harry. How do you think he's going to feel when he hears about this?"

"_Nothing happened_," Ginny's voice started to rise, making her sound guilty. Aware of this, she tried to calm down. "Harry's _not_ going to find out about _anything_ because _nothing happened!_" Then suddenly, like a light being turned on, Ginny understood what was happening. _I always suspected_, whispered a voice at the back of her head, dreamily. _I knew it. And I was _right. "This, this is about Harry, isn't it?"

"Well, of course," Hermione was now the one to look confused. "He's my best friend."

"But that's not enough, is it?" Ginny continued, expressionless. "You want to break us up so you can have him." Ginny took Hermione's expression of absolute shock as an admission of guilt. "Well, don't you _dare_ tell him this stupid story, or I'll never forgive you. And neither will Ron, or Harry. I'll make damn sure of that."

Hermione looked horrified. "Ginny. Did you just _threaten _me?"

Ginny stepped closer, looking Hermione directly in the eyes. "Considering you just threatened to tell Harry that I'm cheating on him, I think it's justified!" Ginny felt utterly betrayed. While she'd always been jealous of Hermione and Harry's easy companionship, their close friendship, and their years of shared history, she had honestly believed Hermione was the one girl she could trust to never try and snag the Chosen One. And like this?

Ginny shouldered past Hermione, who was now really crying. "Ginny, no -"

But Ginny was gone.

* * *

"Why do I always end up with women who are like small yappy dogs? You know, the overly-affectionate, scary kind." Ron looked at the ground, disconsolate. "I mean, Lavender, and now Carly. Am I cursed?"

"Ron, mate," Harry was unable to suppress an eye-roll. "You're only cursed if truly horrific judgement counts as a curse. In which case, you're cursed. Really badly cursed. It's the curse to end all curses-"

"Break up with her for me," Ron said suddenly. "You're _great_ at rejecting girls!"

"Am not," Harry objected, taken aback.

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too! …Please?"

"There are some things a man has to face himself," Harry said majestically. "And in this case, it's a small yappy dog with blonde extensions."

"How'd you know they were extensions?" Ron said, a little surprised.

"She told me. Three times. She was suggesting I should get them too."

There was a pause. "She really _is_ a nightmare, isn't she?" Ron buried his face in his hands, so his next words were muffled. "Merlin's baggy old underwear, how do I get rid of her?"

"One of those little zappy dog collars?" Harry suggested, smirking.

Ron raised his head again, bleary-eyed and rumpled. "I loathe you. Just thought you should know that. You're a terrible best friend. Can't you get Carly arrested or something? Say you had a dream where she turned into a giant snake and ate someone. Merlin knows _I_ have that dream all the time."

"You've been going out six weeks. How did you only notice an undying hatred for her today?"

"It's been creeping up on me," Ron felt miserable. "Which, coincidentally, is something she frequently does. And then yells 'Supwise, it's me!'" He buried his head in his hands again. "I _am _cursed. Spiders and giant squid and snakes and freaking yappy dogs…"

* * *

"Take some of this," Blaise smiled up at Isabelle, who was very nearly straddling him. He reached out and grabbed a container next to his bed. "Astoria asked me to give it to you. She said she didn't need it all."

Isabelle scrutinized the pot, moving to sit further away from him. "Ginny Weasley. You want me to be Ginny Weasley?"

"Variety is the spice of life."

Isabelle's eyes narrowed. Before Blaise could blink, she had her wand levelled at him. "Petrificus Totalus!" When he was frozen, she moved the tip of her wand to his chest, where it burned him. Blaise felt the tears running down his face as she indifferently dragged the lit tip downwards to his sensitive stomach, leaving a livid burn mark. A second later, Isabelle casually stood up and moved away, so she wasn't facing him.

"Listen up, you pathetic little toad," she said coldly, barely noticing the slight sounds of Blaise's agony behind her as the full pain of the burn hit. "You are not supposed to _care_ about Ginny Weasley. Or anyone else, for that matter. You do what you're told; you get paid. Don't think about altering the terms… and don't ever think of Ginny Weasley as something better than the dirt on your shoes." She swivelled to face him again, grey eyes glowing in a manner that scared Blaise almost more then the still-red tip of her wand. "Don't cross me again. Obey my plans. Or you will regret it. Understood?"

In an abrupt change of mood, Isabelle smiled sweetly. "But because I _like_ you, Blaise, I'm going to be _nice_." She waved her wand, summoning up another small container. She scooped a small amount of gel out and roughly applied it to his burn. He made low noises of pain at the uncaring touch of Isabelle's fingers on the most painful areas. "You'll be fully healed in a matter of hours. And since I don't intend to return for several hours, that works out nicely, wouldn't you say? Of course, you _can't_ say."

She turned and left his room and nearly bumped into Draco Malfoy as soon as she was outside. "Isabelle," he drawled, his characteristic smirk in place. "Spending some quality time with your minion?"

"Aren't you supposed to be spending quality time with your dupe?" Isabelle returned with a razor sharp smile.

Draco shrugged negligently. "Not for another hour."

At that, Isabelle quirked an eyebrow. "You said at ten. It's ten now."

"Exactly."

"I did a good day's work when I asked you to help out," Isabelle smiled up at him, genuinely this time. "She'll be quite frantic waiting for you, you know."

"Time apart is good for a growing relationship," Draco fell into step besides Isabelle, apparently abandoning his plan to speak to Blaise. "We wouldn't want to become co-dependent."

Isabelle stopped, reaching up impulsively to hug Draco. "Thank you," she said, her voice low and fervent.

"It's a pleasure to help out." Draco looked at her quizzically.

"Not for that," Isabelle explained. "Well, not for just that, anyway. Thanks for being the only person I know who is just like me."

"Well," Draco quipped, "The only one not in a high-security prison somewhere." Then he caught sight of Isabelle's hurt face and relented. "I didn't mean that… sorry, Isabelle. I know your parents -"

"Are idiots who got caught," Isabelle said with simple brutality. "Same as your father. I'm sorry for thanking you."

"Don't be," Draco said quickly. He hugged her back tightly, feeling the thin bones of her back pressing against his arm and wishing she didn't feel so fragile. "I feel the same way towards you. You're like a sister to me, you know that." He realised suddenly that she'd lost weight in the weeks since school began.

Isabelle managed a smile, though her eyes looked watery. "Good thing we didn't make out last night, then. That would be just wrong." She sniffed and looked up at him, eyes huge and as grey as his. "You're on my side, right? All the way?"

"All the way into hell," Draco promised. "I'm reasonably sure we already have rooms reserved there."

"No," Isabelle detached herself, returning to normal and leaving behind any excess sentimentality. "_You_ have a room reserved. I have a blossoming career there. Go woo your dupe." She turned back towards Blaise's room, but then paused. "And, Draco? Make the Gryffindor princess beg to have a Slytherin. Do that for me." Without waiting for a reply, she went back into Blaise's room, hurrying a little. After all, she had a complex memory charm to do.

* * *

"I'm _baaack_!" Carly sang. "How's my sweet wittle Dalmatian?"

"Dalmation?" Ron echoed faintly.

Carly beamed. "I know, I just thought it up. You have freckles, Dalmatians have spots. Where's Harry Potter?" she demanded, in one of her lightning subject changes. Ron noticed that Carly always said Harry's full name, and added a gasp of adoration on the _Potter_ part.

"Went to his room to get a book," Ron said shortly. "He'll be back in a second."

"Then I have to hurry," Carly said, looking conspiratorial. "I heard the _most fascinating_ rumour. Everyone's talking about it." Carly paused, alight with pride at being in the middle of the scandal because of her relationship with Ron. "Your sister is cheating on Harry Potter!"

"What? Don't talk rubbish," Ron rolled his eyes. "Ginny would never -"

"Blaise Zabini, Slytherin eighth year, west hall balcony," Carly said promptly.

Ron remembered what Harry had said this morning. "Oh, they were just studying together. Near the mermaid tapestry, right? Harry knew that. It isn't like _that_." Ron scowled. "Though I can't say I like her spending time with a dirty great Slytherin, anyway. I should forbid it. Harry should forbid it."

"And then we should go on the run for the rest of our lives to avoid her fury at being ordered about," Harry said cheerfully, re-entering the room. "What are we forbidding?"

"Ginny spending time with her _lover_," Carly said loudly. "And Ronnie, it's not a rumour, it's practically fact. Blaise Zabini and Ginny Weasley were snogging by the mermaid tapestry, one of the nearby portraits was awake and saw the whole thing. Plus five Hufflepuffs, two Ravenclaws, and a whole bunch of Slytherins. Probably even some Gryffindors but none are admitting -"

Harry went chalky white, with two red spots on his cheekbones. Ron, worried his friend would fall, reached up to grab his arm. "Harry, it's not true, you know Ginny, she'd never do anything like that -"

"_How_ many people saw them?" Harry rejoined angrily, then seemed to calm down. His colour returned to normal. "You're right. This is stupid. This is _Ginny_. I should just ask her about it."

"Oh, that'll go well," Ron said, unable to resist. "'Oi, Gin, you been sticking your tongue down any Slytherins lately?' She'll slap you, mate. Which is fair enough really."

"Right, you're right," Harry said firmly, looking completely normal now. Carly looked disappointed. "I won't even mention it. I trust Ginny."

"Yes," Carly glared at him, long nails clacking as she tapped the arm of the chair. "But does she deserve it?"

* * *

The look on Hermione's face as he entered the room made Draco wish he'd come earlier. It wasn't the look of fury Parvati would have given, or the look of relief Hannah would have, or even the sly amusement of Astoria – all of whom would have partially hidden their emotions to keep him intrigued. Hermione didn't even try and hide her look of contempt mingled with yearning, and for some reason that intrigued him more.

He waited for her to say the obvious line every woman said, 'You're late', but she didn't. Instead she just looked at him, waiting for him to talk. "I was held up," he finally said. "One of the first years accidentally did a spell with the fire and burned himself, and I had to make sure he was okay."

"Did I ask?" Hermione challenged, sliding off the table and walking towards him. Her expression made it clear she didn't believe a word of his excuse.

"Right," Draco said coolly. "My mistake." Hermione walked by him, intending to leave, but he grabbed her and swung her around. "You can't leave," he smiled dangerously. "Compulsory class excursion. If you skip it, you'll fail."

"Then I'll fail," she said hotly, but she hesitated enough that he knew he had her. He smirked at her, and to his surprise she smiled back. "Damn you. Why do I get the feeling my soul's in mortal peril?"

"I don't handle souls, that's a colleague's job," Draco said smoothly, ushering her along the corridor. "I'm strictly a stealer of virtue. But if you want to _give_ me your soul -"

Hermione laughed, a little nervously. This was it. _I'm going to lose my virginity tonight. It's not going to be me and Ron and roses and a romantic dinner on a summer night. It's going to be… well, this._

Draco stopped again, reaching out to touch an empty portrait. Looking around, Hermione realised she had no idea where they were. Draco muttered something to the portrait she couldn't quite hear, but sounded like 'Annie'. Then it swung open and he pulled her inside.

"Oh," Hermione said. And then "Oh, Draco." It was a bedroom – as she'd assumed – but in front of it there was a small table set for two, with a bunch of flowers sitting on one of the plates. The whole area was lit up with candles. She picked up the flowers and sniffed them. "What are these?"

Draco pulled out a chair for her, silently rejoicing. He hadn't been _entirely _sure she was going to have sex with him, but the romantic scene had made her a sure thing. He could see it in her eyes. "They're hibiscus."

"Why not roses?" Hermione asked, sitting down. "They're traditional."

He rolled his eyes, taking the seat opposite her. "They're clichéd. And you aren't a cliché."

"Cheesy line," Hermione commented, trying not to be charmed. _Okay, this doesn't mean I'm important to him. He's probably pulled this on fifty gullible girls and I'm number fifty-one._

Draco chucked. "Wine, Granger?"

"Certainly," Hermione said grandiloquently. "And some of your finest caviar." Draco snapped his finger and caviar appeared on her plate, causing Hermione to gape. "Okay, how'd you do that?"

"Magic."

"Yes, but what spell?" Hermione sounded intrigued – but not for the reasons he'd been hoping. "You can't have -"

"Ruining the moment, Granger," Draco cut her off. "How was your day?"

"Really?" Hermione snorted, aware that her nervousness was making her erratic. She could already feel herself sweating. _I'm going to lose my virginity. To him. Tonight. Oh, God. _"You're going to go with 'how was your day?' as a topic of conversation?"

"Let's see," Draco said, grabbing her sweaty hand in his cool one and stroking it with his thumb. "Possible topics: friends, except we hate each others friends."

"You don't really _have_ any friends except Pansy-the-stalker since Goyle didn't come back," Hermione pointed out, drinking some more wine with her free hand.

"How delightfully honest," Draco glared at her. _Damn truth potion is_ _not good when the truth is uncomfortable for _me_ instead of her._ He coughed and then continued. "Second topic: family, except that's obviously ineligible. There's school but we're trying to ignore that. So I'm giving you the choice of conversation by asking – how was your day?"

"Terrible," Hermione confided, feeling the wine relax her. His slowly stroking thumb felt wonderful – or maybe she was just desperate for contact. That was probably it. "I fought with Ginny." Hermione paused. "See, and now we're on the topic of friends again!"

"Tell me why anyway," Draco captured her other hand, realising she wasn't going to eat the caviar. He smiled at her, trying to soften her up. "What could you and the Weaselette possibly have to fight about?"

"She's doing something bad, and she won't even _admit_ it," Hermione felt her eyes fill with tears again. "Not even to me. I mean, I saw her kiss him -" Hermione stopped, shocked. "Pretend you didn't hear that. No one can know, I don't want Harry to find out before I decide what to tell him."

"This is about her kissing Zabini, right?" Draco said coolly. He hid his surprise – Granger had seen him and Isabelle kissing? He wondered if Isabelle had somehow organised that. If she had, it was a masterstroke.

Hermione gasped. "How did you know that?"

"It's all around school," Draco stabbed a piece of caviar, deciding someone should get enjoyment out of the expensive treat. "Someone has probably already told Potter."

Hermione gasped again and tried to stand up. Draco gently tugged her down again. "I have to go make sure he's okay -"

"I doubt he believed it," Draco reached up to stroke Hermione's cheek. It was so soft. "Plus, it's late. He'll be asleep. And you can't skip out on our da- lesson."

"Da-lesson, right," Hermione relaxed back into her chair and drank the rest of her wine. "You weren't going to call it a _date_, were you?"

"Of course not."

"Good." Hermione sniffed the hibiscus again, and then gathered all her courage. "It's not a date." She smiled at him. How strong was this wine? She felt a little woozy again, and strangely open and safe. "I'm feeling _tired_. We should go to bed."

Draco stood up immediately, all concern. "Alright. I'll escort you back to your dormitory." He wondered if he was overdoing it a little, acting like the perfect boyfriend when they both knew they weren't in any kind of relationship. But when he'd though about it earlier, he'd realised that Hermione Granger was a bit of a romantic – she might want a dark, secret affair most of the time, but for her first time she wanted candles and flowers. This wouldn't just push her into sex – it might, with luck, push her into the begging that Isabelle had requested for whatever strange reasons of her own.

Hermione pulled back, startled. "No, I meant -" she gestured to the bed.

Draco deliberately looked worried. "If you're so tired you can't walk, we should go to the infirmary. Have you been eating properly?"

"You know I want to have sex," Hermione said, then blushed bright red and clapped her hand to her mouth. Where was all this honesty coming from? "I think I told you that."

"No, you haven't," Draco reached out and then drew back, as if in shock. Hamming it up. "I thought, I don't know what I thought, I guess I thought this wasn't that serious. You want us to sleep together?"

"I want to have sex," Hermione repeated, beyond embarrassment now, and realising that he was taunting her.

Draco dropped the good guy act with a single smirk. His eyes glowed silver in the darkness, and Hermione thought inconsequentially that the dark was _made_ for Draco. The dark was for wanting bad, beautiful boys who were only after one thing. And right now, that's what she wanted. Draco straightened his shirt cuffs and leaned on the table, his smirk widening. "You want to have sex? Well then…"

He walked two steps away and then turned to face her again, his smile so insolent that Hermione felt anger, humiliation and lust all well up in her. "Prove it."

* * *

**Please review and tell me what you think.**


	7. For Your Entertainment

_'Sall right_

_You'll be fine _

_Baby I'm in control _

_Take the pain _

_Take the pleasure _

_I'm the master of both _

_Close your eyes, not your mind _

_Let me into your soul..._

_Do you know what you got into _

_Can you handle what I am about to do _

_'Cause it's about to get rough for you _

_I'm here for your entertainment._

_-_Adam Lambert

* * *

"Wh-what?" Hermione stuttered, rising to her feet automatically. She felt dizzy.

Draco flashed a smile that should have been declared illegal. "You heard me, princess. _Prove it_." When she just stood there, he sighed and made an imperious gesture with his right hand. "Strip."

Hermione opened her mouth and then closed it, not sure what to say. Normally her answer would be rude and decisive, but somehow the candlelight and wine were affecting her judgement yet again. Instead, she brought her trembling hands to the front of her school shirt. Draco smirked again and sat down on the bed, watching her actions closely.

She closed her eyes as she began to open the buttons, but then felt them fly open. Hermione couldn't help it – avoiding his gaze only made her feel more defenceless. Instead she held his burning silver eyes with her own chocolate ones as she neared the last button. It was tricky – she was shaking from nervousness – and took her several tries to open. She could feel her cheeks burning with shame – shame that she wanted this so badly that she was willing to play his game. She wondered what she looked like.

_She looks like a goddess_, Draco thought as she moved her unsteady hands to the fastening of her ugly, baggy pants. The clothes were unfashionable and badly fitting, but in the candlelight he could see the milk of her skin through the now-open shirt as well as the upper curves of her breasts. Just like before, he found himself aroused by her odd combination of determination and virginal fear. He watched as Hermione shook her hair forward, unconsciously trying to hide her chest. In the firelight her brown hair looked molten, a kaleidoscope of browns, golds and reds.

Her skin was like ivory, Draco noted as she stepped awkwardly out of her pants. It seemed nearly translucent in the half-light, except for the rosy blush to her cheeks.

Hermione paused for a second – now she was only wearing her panties, bra and her unbuttoned school shirt. However, she continued doggedly, shrugging off the shirt to let it fall at her feet. Standing there semi-naked, Hermione felt more than a little stupid – she _knew_ she wasn't any good at being erotic. Then she saw Draco's face and gasped at the lust she saw.

"Continue," he said, voice like iron.

"I've proved what you wanted me to," Hermione whispered weakly, closing her eyes again. Her body felt strange, like it was pulsing. Was this desire? The expression in Draco's eyes -

"And now you'll continue – because I want you to." Hermione thought she felt cool lips brush her left cheek, but when she opened her eyes Draco was still sitting several metres away, in the darkness by the bed. She noticed that the candles only _really _lit up where she was – _like stripper's poles in tv shows_, Hermione thought idly. She wondered if that was on purpose.

Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself and stop the shaking, unaware that Draco was watching her breasts with appreciation as she did so. Then she reached her hands up to the front of her bra – thank God the clasp was on the front – and released it before pulling the straps down her arms.

_I'm topless. In front of Draco._

"Touch yourself," Draco said, keeping his voice low in order to mask the desire in it. "Touch your breasts."

Hermione realised she'd started something she couldn't stop – she felt herself losing control. She _wanted_ to do what he said. She cupped her breasts in her hands, feeling their weight, and circled her nipples with her thumbs, avoiding the tips. Draco was watching her, and she watched him in return from beneath veiled lashes. Every bit of the need Hermione saw in his face was doubled in her, so as she pinched her nipples lightly she felt herself gasp. It was an incredible rush. Draco was completely in control of her actions, but every heated glance he sent her way indicated that she was close to making him lose his own self-control.

"Enough," Draco said huskily. The expression of unconcealed enjoyment on her face was driving him crazy. He'd never thought there could be something so wanton about Hermione Granger. "Take your panties off."

By now Hermione was long past embarrassment – past anything but desire, in fact. When she slid her panties off she didn't let them drop like she had her pants, but slid her hands down with them, caressing her smooth legs. When she stood up fully she heard Draco's breathing quicken.

There was the most incredible feeling of power here for Draco. Having Hermione naked, performing for him, stripping for him, while he sat and watched. Like a slave owner judging his newest acquisition. It was breath-taking to realise their first kiss had been less than a week ago.

Her smouldering chocolate stare seemed to challenge him even as her lips quirked in a slight smile. Sense seemed to fly away as Hermione started to walk towards Draco, fully naked. He licked his lips. "Stop." She halted, now only half a metre away from his seated form on the bed. "Touch yourself again."

Hermione felt herself smile as if from a long way away. From the moment she'd realised she was completely exposed, a veil of composure had settled over her. Totally without shields of any kind, she felt truly free. And she knew exactly what Draco wanted her to do. She reached her hand down to just the right spot and stroked herself. With her other hand, she spread herself a little so he could see, stroking a bit quicker and letting out a low moan that made Draco swallow.

In a split second, Hermione was dragged forwards until she was straddling Draco on the edge of the bed. He kissed her – it was heated, urgent, even a little desperate. Hermione reached her hands towards his chest eagerly, starting to undo his shirt, but he caught her hands and reached them up to the back of his neck. "No touching," he murmured, delving his tongue into her mouth again. Hermione latched her hands together behind his neck and returned the kiss fervently.

One of Draco's thumbs found her and lightly stroked, making Hermione swallow a whimper as he teased her. She wriggled against him, pressing her silken skin against the fabric of his shirt and pants. The rough material of his pants thrilled her, its texture rubbing enjoyably against her clit.

Draco moved his hands up and down her, touching her all over as she squirmed against him and pressed hot kisses on his face and neck. He let his head drop back a little as she moved her kisses lower, to the upper chest that his partly-open shirt left revealed. Her mouth found one flat nipple and she licked it before biting it lightly.

"All right," Draco managed to say. "Now you can touch." In one fluid movement, he undid his shirt and shrugged it off like she had done earlier. Hermione gasped with delight, pressing even closer to his body. Her skin was hot and slippery with sweat, and she moaned as she squashed herself against his taut chest.

He flipped them over so he was on top of her, kissing her breasts and stomach hotly. Hermione moaned and tried to tug him upwards – she wanted him inside her, _now_. "Draco," Hermione gasped, before moaning softly as his hand found her again. One clever finger moved inside of her, pushing deep into her wet heat. "I want -"

Draco moved upwards so they were face to face and kissed her bruisingly. "I know." She felt him shed his pants and underwear. He slid against her. Hermione loved the feeling of their naked, slippery, hot bodies moving against each other. Each glide of his hot fingers over her hips gave her a little thrill of pleasure.

Draco stared down at Hermione's face, enjoying the pleasure he found there. "Prove it," he growled, sliding two fingers into her again. "Prove you want it."

"What?" Hermione forgot what they were talking about as one of Draco's fingers hit a very sensitive spot. She bucked against him desperately.

Draco cursed as she moved against him. It was hard to remember what he was doing when he felt her body against his. "Prove…it…" he managed, rubbing one finger hard against her clit so that she let out a little cry. "Beg." He positioned himself over her.

"Oh. Oh!" Hermione moved against him again, so far gone she couldn't think of anything. His voice – what he wanted – seemed so irrelevant when all she could think was that she wanted more. "Please! _Please!_" Some part of her mind registered that she was nearly sobbing with want, and begging Draco Malfoy to take her.

With that, Draco thrust himself up into her, digging his fingers into her hips. For the first thrust it was uncomfortable, but by the third Hermione was completely mindless, moving against him. She struggled under him, trying to get him deeper.

Draco cursed again as he felt her nails cutting into his back – her wild, unrestrained passion had put him close to exploding. He forgot to be gentle and controlled and pounded into her as hard as he could, as wild as she was. When he felt her insides start to clench and shudder Draco yanked her legs higher brutally so he could plunge into her deeper.

She exactly matched him, rising to meet his savage, deep thrusts, moving herself against him in time so that it was even rougher. He reached down and pinched her clit, making her whimper and cling to him. She sunk her teeth into his shoulder as the full force of her climax hit, letting out small sobs of joy as waves of pleasure crashed through her. She bucked against him as she came, thrashing so hard that he had to hold her down with his full weight as he continued to thrust into her. He came just as she collapsed against the bed, exhausted, letting out a low noise and throwing his head back in satisfaction.

He rolled to lie next to her, also exhausted, and smiled when he saw she was already asleep. "And I thought it was the men who were supposed to roll off, pass out and snore," he told her supine body, too tired to realise he was talking in a way Draco Malfoy didn't talk. Despite his own tiredness he managed to get Hermione under the covers, before dragging himself into the bed too.

He was asleep within seconds.

* * *

"Ginny," Harry began, grabbing his girlfriend's shoulder.

Ginny frowned, looking back. "What is it, Harry? You might have a free, but I don't."

"I trust you," Harry blurted out, before realising that the sentence made little sense when orphaned from the rest. "Sorry. That came out wrong. I mean, not that I don't trust you -"

"Harry. Point." Ginny tapped her foot, worried she knew exactly what his point was.

Harry hesitated only a second. "I wasn't even going to mention it, _because_ I trust you and don't believe it at all, but you deserve to know. There's this stupid rumour going around…"

"…Which you heard from Hermione," Ginny finished for him, incorrectly. "Listen, Harry -"

"No, not from Hermione, I haven't seen her for ages," Harry looked confused. "It's all around the school, actually; twelve different people have told me. Some idiot lied and said they saw you kissing Blaise Zabini."

"Oh," Ginny said. Inside, she panicked. _Hermione told everyone! She told _everyone_ her stupid story! How _could _she? What do I _do_? What if I tell Harry and he won't believe me?_

Seeing her expression, Harry rushed to say, "I don't believe it. I just thought I'd tell you I don't believe it." He reached for her.

"Thanks," Ginny said blankly, allowing him to embrace her, and placing a dry kiss on his cheek. Then she rallied, and kissed him hard on the mouth. "I mean, I know you don't believe it. I would never… I love you, Harry."

"I love you too," Harry said, smiling down at her.

* * *

"So," Blaise finished his story, talking through his mouthful of porridge. "I wake up with this weird-ass scar. A line down my chest. I must've fallen asleep holding my wand or something. I can't think what else could have happened, can you?"

"Fascinating," Astoria said untruthfully, eying a handsome Ravenclaw boy. "How's the Weaselette mission going, Minion Number Two?"

Blaise scowled, making his handsome face look like a petulant child's. "Don't call me that. Why are you so cheerful about counting yourself as a minion anyway?"

"Well, I'm Minion Number One. That helps." Astoria gave the boy a wink. Delighted, he attempted to wink back, but ended up just looking stupid and squinty. Some people, Astoria decided, were simply not meant to wink at other people.

"Well, at least I'm higher than Malfoy." Blaise's face returned to its normal expression.

Astoria refrained from pointing out she didn't consider Draco Minion Number Three – it seemed impossible to her to ever consider Draco anyone's minion, even Isabelle's. "Oh, hello, Isabelle," she turned her smile on her sometimes-best friend, dismissing the rejected Ravenclaw from her mind. "I was just thinking about you. Speak of the devil…"

"…And _she _will appear," Isabelle completed, smiling her usual faux-timid smile. "I have class early today – I can't imagine what possessed me to sleep in. What did you two get up to last night?" She said suddenly, turning grey orbs on Blaise.

"Um," Blaise said, struggling to remember. "Oh. Nothing really. I was planning to come find you, but I guess I… changed my mind?" He sounded uncertain. "I did some schoolwork."

"How _sensible _of you," Isabelle remarked with a smile, turning to Astoria with a quizzical look.

Astoria finished her mouthful and dabbed at her lips with a napkin, as refined as always. "I did nothing. Has this school run out of boys?"

"We have an overabundance of boys," Isabelle said idly. "What we're missing is _men_. And on that note, I have a job for you."

"If it's anything to do with Minion Number Two, I refuse," Astoria said pointedly. He had, after all, just spent ten minutes describing his strange dream about burning wands to her. She had never been so bored in the presence of an attractive male.

"Nothing to do with him," Isabelle promised. "Here's what you do…"

* * *

Hermione woke before Draco did. She found that the room did have a window – possibly an enchanted one, but it still gave a great view of the lake as well as lighting the room up. She reached out a hand and gently moved a strand of Draco's pale hair out of his eyes.

In sleep, he looked no less handsome, but somehow less strong. A little more defenceless. After a second of staring, she realised she was being creepy and lay back down on her back again. She saw a hanging magicked to the ceiling and said its one word out loud automatically. "Love," she read.

"…'Is a devil'," Draco said, his voice slightly blurry as he woke. "'There is no evil angel but love'."

Hermione frowned at the ceiling. "How on earth do _you _know Shakespeare? He was a muggle."

"No he wasn't," Draco yawned, starting to sit up. "Wizard."

"No way," Hermione sat up too, prepared to battle. "He portrayed all the magical stuff as really bad."

Draco shrugged elegantly, stepping into his pants. "That's what sold at the time. Interesting fact – the three witches of MacBeth were famously based on his mother-in-law, sister-in-law and wife. I heard the wife cursed off his hair for that one."

Hermione tried to process this. "Shakespeare was a wizard? Really?"

"A lousy one," Draco said. "Really lousy. Never was able to undo that curse." He gave Hermione a curious look. "How did we get onto this topic?"

"Skill." Hermione turned over, so that she wasn't facing him. This was all too embarrassing. To her surprise he moved round to the side she was facing now, letting out a sigh.

"You did nothing to be ashamed of," he said quietly, stroking her face. "Get rid of that look." He smiled wickedly. "Tonight, same place."

It wasn't a question, so Hermione didn't bother to answer, even with a nod. She watched as he left, then quickly got into her clothes. She had to change, but that wasn't the most important thing – she had to talk to Harry.

She had to tell him the truth.

* * *

"Ginny," Isabelle hissed. She prodded her in the back. "_Ginny!"_

"_What_?" Ginny whispered back, irate. "I'm working on my potion!"

"We need to talk," Isabelle said gravely, casting a quick charm so the others wouldn't hear and drawing her friend to the back of the room. "It's important. It's about Harry."

"What about him?" Ginny said. Then she realised. "If this is about that stupid rumour -"

"No, it isn't about that. Well… it is, sort of. Harry believes the rumour," she said bluntly. "I'm sure he told you he didn't, but there's this girl in my house -"

"He _doesn't_ believe the rumour," Ginny replied. She turned to leave, but was stopped cold by Isabelle's next words.

"'Not ready to get _that_ serious'."

Ginny wheeled around. "_What_?"

"That's what she said, the girl in my house," Isabelle said hurriedly. "She said that's what you've been telling Harry. Is it true?"

"So what if it is?" Ginny felt her cheeks turn red.

"Well, he's angry that," Isabelle swallowed uncomfortably, and then her next words just rushed out. "That you've been giving it away to a Slytherin while telling him you don't want to get serious. Astoria Greengrass, this girl, she says he told her that."

"Why would Harry tell a _Slytherin_ girl anything important?" Ginny demanded.

Isabelle looked even more uncomfortable. "Astoria's beautiful. She said he, uh, wanted a date."

"_What_?" Ginny shook her head, denying it. "No. Harry wouldn't do that. He wouldn't cheat."

"You cheated first," Isabelle said firmly. "You can't be too mad that he wants to get revenge. Tit for tat, an ear for an ear…"

"I DIDN'T CHEAT!" Ginny roared, thankful for the spell which kept their classmates from overhearing – though she knew the teacher would interrupt them soon, since even with just the visual it must clear something important was being discussed.

Isabelle looked a little annoyed. "Ginny, you're my friend, but Harry is too. I'm angry that you cheated on him, but I'm more angry that you'd lie to me about it!" She faked a convincing sob. "I'm sorry, but I'm on his side here. I'm only telling you about Astoria because – because you're still my friend, and I didn't want you to find out later on."

"Harry wouldn't cheat," Ginny repeated, numb. "He just wouldn't."

Isabelle shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe you should go talk to him. I know Astoria said their date was soon -" She smirked as Ginny took off quickly, out of the sound bubble and then the room. Isabelle dismissed the spell casually, and gave an innocent look to the rapt class. "Stomach ache," she said.

* * *

Harry sat alone in the Gryffindor common room, his mind a whirl of confusion. He should really be doing the homework he'd left undone, but he just couldn't. Not with what Hermione had just told him.

He'd yelled at her, said there was no way it could be true. But now Harry wondered – _was_ it true? After all, Ginny had dated a lot of boys before him. And Hermione wouldn't lie.

But Ginny _wouldn't!_

Would she?

Harry felt like his headache was growing by the moment. He wished Hermione was still here, but he'd yelled at her to go away and of course she had. To the library, probably – as if she hadn't spent all of last night there.

"Hello," Harry heard a sultry voice behind him, and turned to see a dark-haired Slytherin beauty he'd never spoken to. She smiled at him, tossing her hair. "I'm Astoria. Remember my name, 'cause you'll be moaning it later."

"How did you -" _get in here_, Harry meant to say, but the sentence died on his lips as she took a step forward and pulled off her Slytherin robe. Underneath it she was wearing red lingerie. Harry felt his jaw drop.

With a smirk, Astoria stalked closer, feeling like a huntress. Harry was still in shock as she leaned in. "Don't I look nice, darling? I'm wearing Gryffindor colours. The gold is my nipple ring-"

"I – what are you – don't -" Harry burbled. She straddled him and he tried to shove her off, but she clung on, resulting in them both falling hard onto the floor.

"How did you know I liked it on top?" she purred, sticking her tongue in his ear. Harry let out a high-pitched little shriek he knew was embarrassingly girly. He tried to push her off again, put she was holding tightly.

"_HARRY?_"

Suddenly Astoria was ridiculously easy to get off, landing with a thump on the carpet. Harry stood, suddenly aware that she had managed to open several buttons on his shirt somehow. Ginny was standing right there, freckled standing out in her pale face. Her eyes were huge. "Harry," she said again, much quieter, her expression so intense Harry took a step back. "How _could_ you?" She let out a sob before turning to flee.

Harry raced after her, grabbing her arm to force her to face him. They were now several passages away from the entrance to Gryffindor.

"Ginny, it's not what you think, she's _crazy_, she attacked me -"

Ginny let out a broken laugh. "Yeah, right! Like you were trying to fight her off! I can't believe you would cheat on me -"

At this, Harry's frustration found release in anger. "Like _you_ can talk! Making out with Blaise – Hermione _told_ me she saw you – you _cheated_ on me. I _never_ cheated on you."

"You're _lying_," Ginny snapped. "You bastard. I wish I _had_ kissed Blaise!"

"Then go do that!" Harry bawled. "No one's stopping you! And I'll go make out with Antonia in there!"

"Astoria," Ginny corrected furiously. "Do you forget _my_ name too? I _will_ go find Blaise! At least he treats me well!" She searched for something to say that would really hurt him, and found it in a lie. "_And_ he kisses better than you! No wonder I couldn't ever go all the way with you," Ginny taunted, both forgetting that only moments earlier she had been insisting she'd never kissed him. "Since you kiss like a ten-year-old!"

"Well, you have the _figure_ of a ten-year-old!" Harry yelled back, indicating her rather slim curves with a wave of his hand. "An ugly one at that!"

Both stood still for a second, panting after their marathon of yelling. Then Ginny spoke up coldly. "We're over, Harry. I _never _want to see you again."

"That goes double for me," Harry retorted. Ginny stormed away, too angry to even reply. As soon as she was out of his sight she burst into tears.

She ran into Astoria, now fully dressed, leaning against the portrait hole, and lunged for her. With one spell Astoria held her back, and started filing her own nails with studied nonchalance. "It's your own fault you know," she said casually. "He's a _hero_. He can't wait around for some freckly nobody to decide she's _ready_ to get that serious. He decides." She smiled sharply. "A lesson for the future." She glided away, releasing the charm only when she'd rounded the corner.

Ginny collapsed and wept.

* * *

Harry closed his eyes, leaning against the passage wall. His head felt like it was going to explode, and he could feel hot tears pressing against his eyelids. Ginny. Red hair, laughing eyes, smile that lights up a room... and she wasn't his any more. She wasn't even who he'd thought she was. How could Ginny have cheated on him? How _dare_ she get mad about the latest ridiculous thing one of his groupies had done after she'd _kissed_ Blaise Zabini?

Zabini. That _bastard_! And that crazy Astoria girl… "Slytherins," Harry said out loud, keeping his eyes closed. "I never want to have anything to do with a Slytherin _ever again_."

"Oh, sorry," Isabelle's voice floated over to him. "I'll go."

Harry opened his eyes. "No, wait! What are you doing here?"

"I was just walking down this passageway I saw you," Isabelle lied. "I thought… you looked like you needed someone to talk to. But if you never want to see a Slytherin again -"

"No, you're fine," Harry managed to dredge up a smile for her, though he knew it must look completely fake. "You're more of a Gryffindor than a Slytherin. You're good with paper aeroplanes, and that's the entrance test."

"Stop smiling," Isabelle recommended. "It's such a rictus grin it looks painful. What happened?" She sat down next to where he was standing and he slid to the ground to join her.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said finally.

Isabelle leaned her head on his shoulder lightly. "Ginny and I aren't friends anymore," she whispered. "I know that doesn't really mean anything, but after I found out what she did -"

"It means something." Harry allowed his heavy eyelids to close once again as he rested his cheek on the top of her head. She was small enough that he could do that with ease, unlike Ginny. "Can we talk about something else, please? I need to be distracted." He didn't add that that was because he was already starting to cry.

"Right," Isabelle closed her eyes too. "I don't think I'd be a good Gryffindor. I'd be a _great_ Hufflepuff, though. Every other house gives points for skill, intelligence, and bravery, but in Hufflepuff if you learn how to tie your shoes it's a bonus…" She felt Harry's choked laugh rumble through him even as her hair started to feel wet from his tears. "I think they might even count to ten this year…"

* * *

In the darkened Slytherin common room, four students raised wineglasses filled with the champagne they most assuredly weren't allowed.

"To Isabelle, the Master – sorry, Mistress – of the evil plan," proclaimed Draco, smiling at her as they toasted.

"To Minionship," Astoria said wickedly, clanking hers against Blaise's, making him scowl at her.

"To being right on schedule!" Isabelle added. "Only fifteen days to go!"

"To breaking the Trio," pronounced Draco. "One down -"

"One and a half down," interpolated Astoria. "If we're counting Potter as a full one even before he falls for Isabelle, then Granger is definitely a half."

"Yes," Isabelle said, raising her glass. "That's our real toast, Draco: to destroying the Golden Trio!"

And they all raised their glasses and drank.

* * *

**As you can probably tell, this story is going to span until the famous newspaper feature in fifteen days, and probably a little further. Which is a very short time frame – but that means everything gets to happen really fast, which makes it more fun to write! And makes it like a chap per Hogwarts day!**

**Please review. It means so much to me.**


	8. Fireworks

_Here _

_You can be anything_

_And I think that scares you_

_I think that scares you._

-Jimmy Eat World

* * *

Hermione Granger stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. _Love_. That was what the ceiling said, and also what was preying on her mind. She turned to look at Draco again – he was still sleeping peacefully, worn out. Hermione was exhausted too – replacing half her hours of sleep with hours of sex was already beginning to take a toll on her, and it was only the second night.

According to the pale light starting to creep in, it was nearly morning, now. Staring at the sky, Hermione felt sick – what was she doing?

All the people she loved would hate her for this.

It hadn't hit her, not at all, until a few hours ago when Draco had casually shifted in his sleep so that he was holding her close. She could hear his heart beating in time with her own, and had closed her eyes to pretend he was Ron. And that's when she'd known – it was like being struck by lightning. The realisation had been horrible but unstoppable.

She was going to lose them all if they found out about this betrayal. And she couldn't even blame them – she was sleeping with the enemy. But Hermione also knew she couldn't stop seeing him – it was a strange compulsion, like nothing else she'd ever felt before. Like he was a drug she was addicted to. She _craved_ him. Even now, it was hard to tear herself away, since part of her wanted to move even closer to him rather than get up.

It had all been so clear a week ago. She'd thought she would flirt with Draco Malfoy for her own amusement, and kiss him for her own revenge on Ron. But now it was far beyond kissing, and inexcusable.

She rose silently, struggling to get her clothes on without waking her companion. Her mind was consumed with a single thought: _I have to see Ron. I have to see him._ She'd missed him terribly since the start of the year, and Hermione suddenly knew that seeing him would make things clearer, somehow. She loved him.

Hermione's caution was unnecessary. Draco was completely awake, though he kept his eyes closed. He could hear her moving around and knew she must be leaving.

He wanted to open his eyes and see her. He wanted to speak to her, make her face light up in interest or fury or curiosity. He wanted to pull her back down into the bed and kiss her until she forgot about leaving.

It was the sleeping together, that's what it was. Not the _sex_, but the simple act of sharing a bed. Draco had rarely slept next to a girl, preferring to love them and leave them – literally. He'd certainly never slept beside the same girl three times in under a week. Their bodies pressed together – hearing her gentle breathing – watching her smile in her sleep and wondering what she was dreaming – it was like her humanity was seeping into him, starting to melt the coldness he'd cultivated in himself. People were bound to get – confused – when they did something so emotionally intimate.

Not that Draco had ever gotten confused before.

_Cold turkey_, Draco decided, opening his eyes as he heard the door close. _I'll go back to my room next time after sex. I won't even talk to her before we have sex, or after – well, except getting information for Isabelle. I'll spend less time with her. That will stop this blasted infatuation._

Because that was all it was. Infatuation.

* * *

Ron sat bolt upright in bed, hearing a knock on his door. "Carly, I told you, I need some space!" he said loudly. He was glad to have his own room but he wished it didn't encourage Carly to come and annoy him all the time. Though if he still shared a room with the Chosen One she'd probably spend even more time there. This was earlier than normal, though, even for Carly.

"It's me," Hermione's soft voice came through the door.

"Come in," Ron said immediately, reaching both his hands up to his flaming hair to try and tidy it.

Hermione entered, wearing a hesitant smile. "Hey." Her clothes and hair were rumpled and she looked as exhausted as Ron felt. "Fell asleep in the library," she said when he stared too long at her crumpled shirt.

"Sit down," Ron said, moving over. She did so with a yawn. Ron looked at her closely – her hair was so tangled it resembled a bird's nest, her eyes sported grey circles around them, and her skin was paler than normal. And yet, she was beautiful. "What's the matter?" Suddenly he remembered he was annoyed with her. "_Why_ did you tell Harry my sister was _cheating on him_?"

Hermione flinched away, looking sick. "I thought – I thought he'd confront her, and she'd tell him the truth, and they'd work it out."

"You always have to interfere," Ron remarked without heat. After a second, he sighed. "Of course you do." It was as fundamental a part of Hermione Granger as her brown hair. Normally Ron would be angrier, but he was so tired at the moment he couldn't manage it.

Hermione bridled. "It's always worked before!" she said defensively. "I didn't think -"

"It's not your fault," Ron said. "You couldn't have known Harry would immediately try and sleep with someone else. _Bastard_." He scowled. "We had a fight last night, you know."

"I'm not surprised." Hermione leaned against the head of the bed, closing her eyes. "I fought with Ginny, after I saw her kiss Blaise Zabini."

"It's not our fight," Ron said softly. The war and his part in it, along with his brother's death, had made Ron grow up a lot. Of course, he'd still been stupid enough to get with Carly, so he wasn't as wise as he'd thought. "I mean, I guess it kind of is. You'll take Harry's side and I'll take Ginny's -"

"Harry says he didn't cheat," Hermione kept her eyes closed, still tired.

"Ginny says the same. Except, you know, the other way around," Ron closed his eyes too, lying down next to Hermione. "She says she never kissed Zabini."

"I saw her."

"You saw wrong," Ron said stubbornly.

"Well, what are the options here? One cheated or both cheated. Either way, they're over, and we're in the middle." Hermione sighed. "And it's my fault for telling Harry, if that's what made him go off looking for some slutty fangirl. He's a mess now."

"So's Ginny," Ron yawned as well. _It must be catching_, he decided hazily. "I just, I wish they'd sort things out, but it's not our fight. I don't want to fight with you any more. I've missed you, 'Mione. I really care about you." He paused, gearing himself up, unable to look Hermione in the face. "I think I love you. I mean, I s'pose I've always known. Well, not _always_, but at least since Lavender. And that kiss was the best thing that ever happened to me. But when Fred died and you went away I was angry. I knew I shouldn't've been but I think I was grieving and that's a stage, apparently, according to Carly's father. So I got with Carly because I was angry, but I promise, I'll end it. Because I love you." He ended his rambling, disjointed speech and turned to Hermione. "'Mione?" But she was, predictably, fast asleep.

* * *

"How could he believe that I'd do something like that," Ginny snivelled. "How _could_ he?"

Blaise stifled a sigh. Ginny had cornered him at breakfast to ask furiously if he'd started the rumours, and when he'd denied all culpability she'd burst into tears and fell on him weeping. Since then he'd been comforting her and trying hard not to check the time. "There, there. He's an idiot." There was nothing Blaise hated more than crying women. They got so _ugly_ when they cried, all red and blotchy. But Isabelle wanted him to act the part of Ginny's only friend until she fell into his manly arms.

He could barely hold in a smirk at the thought of Ginny Weasley's slender legs wound around him. He would enjoy that – she was sexy, in an odd sort of way, with her bright red hair and fiery temperament. And Blaise was the epitome of the sex-crazed teenage boy. "He's a total idiot to _ever_ think you'd do anything like that."

He hugged her close and Ginny closed her eyes, trying to imagine it was Harry hugging her. But that just made her cry harder. She hated seeming so weak – after all, she hardly ever cried. But now she just couldn't stop.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry I j-just don't have anyone else to g-g-go to," she sobbed hard, her thin body shaking uncontrollably with her sobs. "Harry hates me, and Ron just gets angry, and Isabelle's not my friend anymore, and Hermione never _was_ my friend because it turns out she wanted Harry all along and if I t-tell Ron that he'll hate me!"

"There, there," Blaise said soothingly. "I'm here. You've got me. I'm your friend, I promise. Even if we've only been friends for a short while, I'll _never_ desert you, I swear."

Blaise imagined Ginny Weasley on her knees before him, naked. Oh, yeah_._ _Soon_, he promised himself. _Soon_.

* * *

Isabelle grabbed Draco's arm as he made his way through the Slytherin common room. "We need to talk."

Draco yawned. "I need to sleep," he retorted.

"It's Friday. You have the weekend to sleep," Isabelle said. She looked up at him with her grey eyes so like his. He'd wondered, once, in a moment of whimsy, if they could actually be closer related than the family tree indicated, but it was very unlikely. "Come on."

Draco allowed himself to be led to a dark corner. "Fine. What is it?"

"I have it from a reliable source that Granger and Weasley are re-establishing their friendship," Isabelle said without preamble. "She spent the morning in his room with him, from about five a.m. until breakfast."

Draco felt an odd little twinge of something unfamiliar to him. "What does that matter?" he said harshly. "Don't you have a little plan that will make them hate each other?"

"Yes," Isabelle said. "But it will take awhile to set up. Astoria's working on it." At his look of enquiry, she smirked. "It's a good plan, too. I just need them not to talk much for a while. If they share too much – well, I might have to fast track some of my other plans to stop them realising just how deeply Slytherins are involved in this."

"They won't work that out," Draco said immediately. "They're _Gryffindors_."

"But if Granger tells him about you – unlikely, but still possible – or he mentions how much I appear in little Ginny's story – well. They could figure it out," Isabelle gnawed her lower lip. "If you can just keep Granger away from Weasley tomorrow, and maybe the day after, I'll figure out a way to stop them talking after that."

"You want me to spend two whole days with the mudblood?" Draco snorted. "You must be out of your mind." He turned to leave.

"_Please_, Draco," Isabelle pleaded, sounding weaker than he'd ever heard her sound. "Just the one day, then. I need _one day _with Weasley without interruption."

Draco turned around. "Why is this little plot so important to you, Isabelle?" he said quietly. He watched as her face closed down completely, and sighed. "All right. But in return, I want to know the _reliable source_ that told you Herm – Granger was in Weasley's bedroom."

Isabelle hesitated. "I have a mole," she admitted. "A Gryffindor spy. And that's all I'll say."

"You've set me on Granger, Blaise on the Weaselette, and yourself on Potter. So the spy must be for the Weasel," Draco guessed. "Seems a little unnecessary. You could probably talk to Weasel and he'd tell you everything you want to know, since he's not too bright."

Isabelle's mouth twitched for a second and she visibly suppressed laughter, as if Draco had said something hilarious instead of an early-morning insult that wasn't even halfway to his usual standards. Then she was all business again. "You have Granger under control, right?"

"Completely so," Draco said shortly. "Last night she showed up hours early." Of course, the only reason he knew that was that he had too, for reasons he had decided were purely sexual.

Isabelle stood on her toes to kiss his cheek lightly. "Thank you. I know she must be very boring to deal with."

_Boring? _Draco thought. _Occasionally infuriating with her prudishness, yes. Difficult. So passionate she makes me lose control. So unlike her normal self that I think she surprises herself as much as me. But boring? _"You're welcome."

"You must be looking forward to when this will all be over and you can go back to normal," Isabelle smiled and turned to leave.

"Yes," Draco said, his voice emotionless. "Yes, I am."

* * *

**This is a short, bad chapter written by an exhausted girl at one in the morning. I apologise for any mistakes. I also apologise for the long time between updates, I've been kind of out of it.**

**On the bright side, I have lots of great ideas for Hermione and Draco's weekend together! Most of it a bit fluffy, but hey, that stuff is fun to write. :)**


	9. The Inevitable

_I'm bad luck. Good was never an option for me._

-Jinx, Teen Titans

* * *

It was Saturday evening and Harry had absolutely nowhere to be.

Normally, he spent Saturdays with Ginny. They flew together, argued, hung out in his room, practised spell-work, or even met up with the rest of the former DA members. None of which Harry had really felt like doing on his own, so he'd had the most boring day imaginable.

The weather outside had been awful all day, the kind of storm that soaked people in moments. Harry twitched the curtains again to check, as if it might have stopped raining since the last time he looked. He wanted to go out and fly, but not even he was dedicated enough to go outdoors in this weather.

Suddenly, Harry frowned. "What the…" he muttered, pressing his face against the glass. It was hard to tell, given his terrible eyesight, but it looked like there were people out there in this.

And… were they _kissing_?

* * *

Earlier That Day

Hermione woke up when the sun was already high in the sky, and looked around blearily, trying to remember the night before. She'd waited in this room for Draco, like the two nights before, she vaguely recalled.

She shifted slightly, and moaned in pain. Had she been lying on her _knitting needles _all night? She was going to be sore for _days_, and for no reason, since Draco hadn't turned up. Hermione must have fallen asleep while waiting. She remembered she'd brought her knitting to pretend - pathetically - that she wasn't dependent on his arrival.

"Good morning," Draco said cheerfully, entering the room. "How did you sleep?"

"What are you doing here?" Hermione said, irritated, struggling to wake up. She knew she must look absolutely terrible, but she forced herself upright anyway. Hermione looked at the bed – yes, she had slept on her knitting. The hat was going to be very oddly shaped but Hermione was sure the house elves wouldn't mind.

Draco put the tray of breakfast he'd brought next to her on the bed, aware of how bizarre this behaviour was for him. But he had to try and keep her here today, like Isabelle had asked, and he was sure this would help. "I brought you breakfast, since I was late last night." He smirked at her. "Besides, how can you ask what I'm doing here? It's _my_ secret room."

"Whatever," Hermione said crankily. She stretched and tried not to wince. "You didn't come at all last night." She'd waited for what felt like hours, trying to concentrate on her knitting and failing miserably.

"I did," Draco couldn't help his face softening a little as she tried to flatten her bushy hair. The damn stuff was so buoyant – he'd swear some of it was sticking straight up, in direct contradiction to the law of gravity. He thought she was adorable like this. "You were already asleep. I guess you've been – _working_ – too hard lately." He gave her a little wink on the word 'working'.

"Do you have to make everything sound dirty?" Hermione said rhetorically.

Draco laughed at the face she made. "Everything _is_ dirty, Hermione." He grabbed the breakfast plate and waved it under her nose in what he hoped was a tempting way. "Come on, you know you want some."

Hermione grabbed a piece of toast and took a bite. "I'll eat it on the way back to my room, thank you."

_Crap_. "I was kind of hoping…" Draco hesitated, depending on Hermione's curiosity.

She took the bait. "What?"

"I thought we could spend the day together," Draco said with a meekness that Hermione knew was completely feigned.

"What?" Hermione took another bite of the toast – it was her favourite marmalade, how on earth had he known that? – and hopped out of bed. "No. Why… I mean, why would… why?"

"Why not?" Draco drew closer to her, staring into her eyes intensely. Hermione looked away, uncomfortable – she was wearing yesterday's clothes, her hair was a mess, she had sleep in her eyes, her back ached and she was sure she smelt. Why did he keep _looking _at her like that? "I'd like to spend time together."

"No," Hermione said, just as firmly.

"What have you got to lose?"

_My soul. _"Fine," Hermione said curtly, searching for a way out. "But only if you…" she glanced around the room looking for inspiration. "…let me teach you how to knit."

"Knit?" Draco said, stunned.

Hermione nodded, on surer ground now. "Yes. Knit." She gave a smirk nearly worthy of Draco Malfoy, which made him laugh.

"Fine," he said, calling her bluff. "I'll learn to knit." He perched on the bed, looking impossibly attractive with his stormy grey eyes and white-blonde hair.

Hermione looked down. "I'm going to go clean up, I'll be back in a moment." She entered the adjoining bathroom.

"I'll be waiting," Draco promised.

* * *

"Ideas. We need ideas." Isabelle Mulciber paced the room she shared with Astoria, frowning direly. "Ron Weasley. We need to stop him from talking too much with Granger or Potter."

"His girlfriend?" Astoria suggested. "Something with her?"

Isabelle shook her head decisively. "At first I thought I'd get her to make a move on Potter to wreck their friendship, but the stupid Weasel doesn't even really like her. She's useful for nothing."

"I could sleep with him?" Astoria twisted a lock of hair around one finger, her expression seraphic. "I've always had a thing for redheads."

Blaise, sitting ignored in the corner, let out a bark of laughter at this. "And brunets, and blondes, and bald men, and -"

"Shut it, Zabini," Isabelle ordered. She tapped her head lightly. "I have to _think_. I don't know what to _do_. I assumed Granger would still be angry about the Weasel's defection to that bimbo."

"Maybe she's getting over him now that she's got Draco," Astoria remarked.

Isabelle looked up, eyes alight. "I've got it!"

* * *

"Okay, and just keep going like that," Hermione turned back to her breakfast.

_Right_. Draco looked down at the tangled wool in his hands. Stealthily, he reached for his wand, and tapped the left knitting needle.

"Cheater," Hermione said, having turned around at just the right moment. Grabbing her own wand, she cast a quick spell on the ball of wool. Beneath Draco's surprised gaze, the end of the wool wound itself around his wand and yanked it neatly from his grasp.

"Hey!" Draco objected, trying to catch his wand as the wool flew into the air still carrying it. He leapt out of his seat for it but missed, crashing into the bed. "Not fair!" He grabbed for it again but the wool whipped away jauntily, causing Draco to stumble into a wall as he just missed catching the end.

Hermione laughed hysterically, leaning against a wall to avoid falling down. The impeccably dressed, incredibly elegant Draco Malfoy losing a fight with a ball of wool! She only wished she could tell someone –

The ball of wool, having apparently decided to strike out for freedom, spiked itself on Hermione's wand, flipping it out of her loose grip. "Hey!" she echoed Draco unthinkingly, reaching out for it.

Draco snickered. "Looks like I'm not the only one who -"

"To your left, _catch it_!" yelled Hermione, purposely covering up his smug comment.

The next couple of minutes were a whirl of activity, ending in the wool's complete and total triumph. It wound between there legs and flew around them in circles, spiralling dizzily, until Hermione noticed suddenly that it was tying them up. "_Draco!_" she said, her voice uncharacteristically shrill, as the (much depleted) ball of wool yanked the strands tight.

Draco and she both overbalanced, tied together by the rogue wool. It was only after a second of thought that Draco started to laugh just as hard as she had before, ignoring the annoyed look on the face barely inches from his own as well as the uncomfortable floor. "Merlin," he managed to choke out. "Oh, dear Merlin. A former Death Eater and the smartest witch of our age outsmarted by a ball of wool!"

Reluctantly, Hermione started laughing too. "It's your fault," she managed to say. "Cheater!"

"You cast the spell," Draco pointed out. He hadn't laughed like this in years. "You created this monster!" The ball of wool, which had settled a few metres away, gave a little hop as if agreeing.

"You're a Seeker," Hermione blew a raspberry in his face, overwhelmed with giddiness. It wasn't something people typically did to Draco Malfoy – well, except Peeves. "Your fault you didn't catch it!"

"Hmmm," Draco said thoughtfully, his expression becoming mischievous. "I don't suppose you're… _ticklish_, Granger?"

"No, I'm not," Hermione said desperately. "No! _No!_" she laughed uncontrollably as his right hand started to explore her stomach in a way he hadn't before. "_Stop!_" Suddenly, she let out a shocked gasp as he stopped tickling and instead danced his hand up towards her breasts.

"You said to stop tickling," he pointed out innocently. "And after all…" he moved his face in, kissing her mouth thoroughly. Trapped by the woollen net, Hermione had no control at all as his hand slid inside her bra. "…I knew we'd get to bondage eventually."

"Sure you did," Hermione said, trying to be dry, but she arched her back as he touched her nipple, letting out a little involuntary gasp.

Draco only had one hand free, but their bodies were pressed together so close together that it didn't seem to matter. Eventually he managed to work his hand down her skirt, pressing roughly against her centre. She moaned, grinding against him, and Draco smirked. He loved how responsive she was – all he had to do was touch her and she was immediately moving, desperate for more. He also loved her soft, round breasts pressed against him; the hand-span waist she covered up with those baggy tops; her slender legs curling around him and tightening the woollen bonds; her wild hair spread out on the floor beneath him; her chocolate eyes melting with lust; the slight sheen of sweat on her face; the small noise she always made as she started to come.

Hell, he loved it all.

After she came, it took Hermione a few minutes to return to her normal self. As soon as she did she felt the usual rush of shame at her behaviour – but this time it seemed less sharp and painful. Maybe because of the strange, almost tender look on Draco's face.

It took them nearly ten minutes to disentangle themselves and retrieve their wands. As they straightened, Draco was surprised by the look in Hermione's eyes. "What?" he demanded.

"Well," Hermione said huskily, her voice so sensual it made Draco's mouth go dry. "I'm pretty sure I left my Gryffindor tie in the bathroom the other day. It's slender, but the material's strong…" she intertwined her fingers with Draco, pulling him towards the bathroom.

_When did she become a seductress?_ Draco wondered, but he couldn't bring himself to mind at all.

* * *

"Ron," Carly called out, racing after her boyfriend.

Ron halted. "What is it, Carly?" he said shortly.

Carly stopped, panting a bit from chasing him through the Great Hall. "I heard the _best_ rumour. Your friend Hermione is sleeping with someone!"

"What?" Ron glared at her. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard -"

"No, it's the truth," Carly said stubbornly. "There's a group of fourth year Gryffindors who saw her return early in the morning yesterday -"

" – From the library, she fell asleep there -" Ron tried to say, but Carly ignored him.

"And the day before she was seen returning wearing already-worn clothes! I got this straight from a fifth-year Gryffindor, Marty, and he gave me the names of the other ones who've seen her returning, I've got them right here," Carly said proudly, proffering a parchment. "You can check them out yourself! Isn't it _amazing_?" She'd always been a little annoyed at the looks her boyfriend gave that disgusting bookworm - well, now he'd know just how disgusting she was.

"I didn't know you could plant fake memories so well," Blaise said, a touch of admiration in his voice, as they watched the couple from the other end of the hall.

Isabelle shrugged. "Practice makes perfect. And you didn't seem to be as impressed with the plan when we were catching all those Gryffindors."

"It took us all morning to get each of them alone," Blaise said, a touch sulkily. "And I wasn't sure it would work – it _will_ work when he tracks them down, won't it? I had to break plans with Ginny for this, you know." He turned to leave.

"Blaise," Isabelle said, just loud enough to be heard. "She won't want you, you know. No matter what you pretend to be." She smiled cruelly at his deliberately blank expression. "No matter how nice you are to her, you'll always be a Slytherin. And Slytherins just don't get happy endings."

* * *

Draco, about to see whether Hermione wanted company in the bathtub after their latest romp, saw his wand vibrate on the bedside table. He frowned – that was Isabelle's signal.

He moved as quickly and quietly to the door as he could, opened it and stepped outside. Isabelle was waiting. "Mark her where people can see," were the first words out of Isabelle's mouth. "You know, give her a hickey. Also, play on her emotions and make her promise not to tell anyone about you."

Draco blinked. "Why on earth would she -" he started to say, but Isabelle had already turned around, dismissing him from her mind. He sighed. Isabelle's plans were always so complex. Draco, himself a veteran at manipulation, admitted he preferred simpler scams.

He re-entered the room, and smiled as Hermione stepped out of the bathroom a second later wearing only a towel. Her cheeks were rosy from the hot water, and he pictured that rosiness all over her body. "Come here," he said abruptly.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, but moved towards him anyway. Draco gathered her into his arms, smelling her hair. She smelt like spring rain and flowers to him, though he wasn't sure what flowers. _Play on her emotions_, he thought, _right_. He pulled her towards the bed.

She allowed him to, laughing and protesting as they went. "Draco," she objected, eyes shining. "I'm still tired from last time!"

"I could make you forget that," Draco said wickedly, but then laughed too. For some reason today didn't feel quite real – it was like a holiday from reality. A holiday from being the cold, hard Draco Malfoy. "It's okay, though. I just wanted to sit with you."

Hermione raised her eyebrow again, an expression she suspected she was now overusing. She didn't even know where she'd got it from – it was something Draco did frequently, but Hermione refused to believe she could have got it from him. "Sit with me while I'm semi-naked? What, Draco Malfoy wants to _cuddle_?" She made a face.

"If you like," Draco said equably. "If you want I could even give you an adorable pet name. How about snugly-bear?"

Hermione drew in a shaking breath. "If you do that," she warned, voice throbbing with emotion, "I'll slap you. That's a promise."

"My boogedy-woogedy?" Draco managed to keep a perfectly straight face as he gathered her in the crook of his arm, leaning against the pillows, smiling down at her. Hermione elbowed him hard in the side, and he winced and kissed her forehead. "All right, Princess. How about we just talk? Are you still arguing with your friends?"

Draco started nibbling Hermione's neck, and she tried to ignore him, pulling the fluffy white towel around her more tightly. "I shouldn't have told you about that. It was a betrayal."

Draco rolled his eyes, though he knew she couldn't see in the position they were in. "We're already committing a bigger betrayal."

Guilt welled up inside Hermione. "I know."

"I'm not saying we should stop," Draco said quickly. "If no one ever knows…"

Hermione closed her eyes. "Who's going to be mad at you, anyway? There's, what, three Slytherins in our year now?" she said challengingly.

"Well, Pansy would definitely kill me," Draco said mock thoughtfully, but then turned serious. "My…my parents would be furious. They'd hate me. And most likely disinherit me."

Hermione leaned her head back to look up at him. He'd started absentmindedly stroking her hair. "What? Why risk it?"

"Because," Draco looked down at her, and his face morphed into his trademark lazy smirk. "I like the risk. Or maybe I just like you." He captured her mouth, for a second, before easing regretfully away. "Please… I know it's a lot to ask… but can you swear to me that you won't ever tell anyone about me? Not even your friends?"

"I wasn't planning to tell them," Hermione said honestly.

Draco looked away. "But if you change your mind… please, Hermione. Promise me."

"I promise." Hermione snuggled closer to him, barely realising what she was doing. "You have to promise me the same, though."

"Sure," Draco said, feeling a little hollow. It certainly wasn't the first promise he'd made in his life with no intention of keeping, but he still felt a little bad about it. She was so damn _trusting_ – not in a stupid way, like the myriad bimbos he'd had in here, but in a way that made him think she really believed in him. Really believed that Draco Malfoy could tell the truth. Could be someone good. "So, now that no one will ever know, you can tell me how you're going with your little friends."

Hermione wrinkled her nose as he started nibbling lightly at her neck again. "_Little_ friends? That's so patronising." She relaxed into him, enjoying the feel. "And things have gotten worse. You must know that Harry and Ginny have broken up, that's all around the school. And it's _my fault_ because I told Harry the truth and it was interfering. I just… the truth is important. I thought he should know it. But I didn't think… and Ginny _hates_ me, now, I tried to talk to her yesterday and she ignored me. She spends all her time with her new boyfriend." It felt good to be able to let her feelings out. "And Ron's angry with me for all of it."

Draco broke off from sucking her neck, feeling oddly elated at the very visible purple mark. It felt like he'd claimed her, somehow, even if he was just following orders. "What do you care what the Weasel thinks?"

"I love him," Hermione said, surprised by the question. It didn't occur to her how strange it was to say that while with Draco, having just made love to him more than once.

Draco felt that strange twinge of pain again, only stronger. "Yes, but he doesn't love you," Draco said, a little too harshly. When she twisted her neck to look at him, he forced himself to calm down. "I mean, he's with someone else. If you keep depending on what he thinks, than you'll come across as desperate."

Hermione giggled. "I forgot that the original reason for these meetings was to teach me how to deal with Ron better."

"_Your_ original reason," Draco drawled. "Trust me, it wasn't mine. I'm just grateful you're a fast learner so we were able to skip the boring bits."

"I can't believe you used that as bait," Hermione sighed. "It seems like it was ages ago, doesn't it? Back then, the idea of skipping out on my homework to laze around with Draco Malfoy would seem unthinkable."

"You can't tell me you haven't got your homework done for the rest of the year already."

"I haven't, though! I was going to catch up this weekend, but now I guess I'll have to the weekend after," Hermione inhaled Draco's scent. He smelled so nice. Ron and Harry generally smelt of grass and sweat and dirt, which was organic but not particularly sexy. Draco smelled of sex. "The weekend after that there's the press conference."

"I know, I'm invited to that too." At Hermione's look of inquiry, Draco said dryly, "I'm supposed to explain how I was so stupid that I never realised I was the master of the Elder Wand, and then talk about how Vincent's death and my father's imprisonment were necessary, and _then_ monologue about how Potter is the greatest thing ever to happen to the wizarding world. According to the ministry worker who told me I had to come, it would also be good if a talked about all the times the Chosen One beat me up. Exactly how I wanted to spend the weekend."

Hermione burst out laughing. "He didn't beat you up!"

"_You _did once," Draco reminded her, then paused. "Looking back, I think the fights between me and Potter were a bit unfair. I had two gorillas on my side, and he had you."

"And Ron."

"Well, I counted him as neutral, since in all our fights I think he hit himself with as many offensive spells as he hit my group," Draco casually started stroking Hermione's cheek. She was so smooth – it felt like no one had ever touched her before him. Like he was the discoverer of something rare and precious.

"If it cheers you up, I'm dreading the press conference too, even though they seem to be typecasting me as a saint," Hermione pursed her lips. "I _hate_ getting my picture taken. I don't tell many people that, but it's true. My face always looks stupid, I look fat, and my hair always looks like a separate animal which is squatting on my head."

Draco smiled as a thought struck him. He couldn't resist. "Spend tomorrow with me too." He said impulsively. "Meet me at the headless statue. Please?" He didn't like how often he was saying 'please' with Hermione, considering how rarely he normally said it, but if it worked…

Hermione hesitated, but then nodded. "Okay."

"Now," Draco said, starting to get up. "Get dressed. I want to go outside."

Hermione stared at him, then pulled the window open a little. "Draco. It's pouring."

Draco smirked at her. "Please?"

"That's not going to work forever," Hermione warned him, but went and changed anyway.

* * *

"Hermione's with someone," Ron said out loud. No matter how many times he said it, it didn't sound right. "Hermione has a boyfriend." He'd accepted that it was possible. He refused to believe they were having sex, though.

Normally he would talk to Harry about this, but he wasn't talking to Harry since Harry had cheated on his sister. He couldn't talk to Ginny about it because she was very angry with Hermione at the moment, and also too upset to really listen. Plus, she was with that Slytherin bastard. Ron had tried to detach her and failed – Ginny had replied that Blaise was her "only friend in the world" and swanned off to supposedly study.

Hermione wouldn't be having sex. It had always been an unsaid agreement that they would have sex with each other for their first time – hadn't it? Ron hadn't even slept with Carly yet, though that was partly because Carly was insisting on waiting to try and make Ron more devoted. Lavender had offered, back in sixth year, but by that time she was so much like the Giant Squid that sex with her wasn't an especially attractive idea, even for a teenage boy.

But who _was_ Hermione seeing? She definitely wasn't just falling asleep at the library, from the accounts he'd heard. One second-year had said he'd seen her embrace someone before going up to her room, but he didn't recognise who. It was driving Ron crazy with jealousy.

Which was why he was waiting here. He needed to see Hermione, talk to her, and convince her to stop seeing whoever this was. He _had_ to.

* * *

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Hermione screamed as Draco executed a hairpin turn on the broom. She wrapped her arms more thoroughly about him, sourly thinking that he must be enjoying this immensely. "I hate flying!" she yelled through the thunder. Her wet hair clung to her face.

Draco turned to look at her, surprise plain on his face. "You do?" He gave a quick nod, as if that decided him, and leapt off the broom, pulling her after him. "Home," he ordered the broom, and it shot off. He turned to Hermione. "I like flying in the rain," he said, by way of explanation.

"I hate flying, especially in the rain!"

"But don't you feel it?" Draco had to practically yell, over the noise. His blonde hair was plastered to his head, and she could see drops of water clinging to his eyelashes. "It's the most amazing thing in the world. The thunder makes music…" he paused. "I can't explain it. I'll show you." Suddenly he grabbed her, pulling her close, and twirled her around. "This is another way to enjoy the storm," he whispered into her ear. "Like flying, but not."

Hermione frowned at him, but then understood what he meant as he spun her again, leading her in a dance she'd never seen before. He whirled her through the rain, the drops slapping her head and shoulders and making twisted pathways down her arms.

It was _amazing_.

There was some sort of odd, intense freedom in it – the rain attacking her, surrounding her; the dizziness of whirling; the heat of her body contrasted by the cool water running down her skin. The rain created a million points of sensation on her body as she was pushed away from Draco in a spin, then pulled close to his warmth.

Hermione found herself laughing, and kicked off her shoes like Draco did. He smiled at her, and lifted her up to spin around with her in his arms. Hermione's feet swung out, her skirt billowing out in the wind, as lightning lit up the world.

The brightness of the lightning – the sound of the thunder – the coldness of the rain – it was like the world was overwhelming Hermione, but at the same time she was part of it all. Draco was with her, advancing and moving backwards, in a strange, impulsive dance filled with spins and twirls. He dipped her low, smiling down at her, as the rain poured down around them.

She clasped her hands behind his neck as he spun her again, but this time she didn't let go when he put her back on the wet grass. Instead, she moved closer to him, and kissed him as the storm continued around them. Mouths moving, tongues playing, hands groping at each other. Then, when they drew back, Hermione found herself simply staring into Draco's eyes as he looked back, the intense feelings in the silvery glow mirroring her own.

It was a perfect moment.

* * *

Draco sat by the Slytherin fire until it had almost burned out that night. Until, in fact, Isabelle sat next to him, not saying a word, just waiting for him to speak.

"Malfoy," he said finally. "_Mal foi_. Bad faith. _Draco_. Dragon." There was a long pause, filled only with the sound of their breathing. "Do you think people can change, Isabelle?"

Isabelle squeezed his hand, and got up to leave. At the last second she turned back. "Some people can change, Draco. But not people like you, or people like me. We are what we are. We're Slytherins, through and through. No choices. No changing. It's… inescapable."

Draco thought of his father, far away in Azkaban; his sister, long dead; his mother, keeping court in a house full of shadows; and of the long trail of betrayal and death and cruelty he'd left behind him over his eighteen years. "Yes," he said finally, "I suppose it is."

* * *

By the time Hermione Granger made it back to her own room, it was very late. She silently passed a dozing Ron Weasley in the Common Room, and climbed into her bed.

For the first time since this crazy whirlwind had begun, she didn't stress herself out by thinking of consequences and betrayal. Instead, she slept soundly, and she dreamed of wool and school ties and dancing in the rain.

* * *

**Hope you like it. Please take the time to review, if you can.**


	10. Addicted

_How can I make it through_

_All the things you do_

_There's just got to be _

_More to you and me_

- Saving Abel

* * *

Hermione woke up, and felt happy. This was quite rare for her – even on a Sunday, she always had things to do. She could never quite relax.

Come to think of it – _didn't_ she have things to do?

_Merlin! I was supposed to meet Draco five minutes ago!_ Hermione leapt up, yanked on the nearest set of clean clothes and practically ran out of the room. She hated being late. Racing into the common room, she slammed right into Ron. "Morning, Ron," she gabbled. "Listen, I've got to go -"

"To the _library_?" Ron said, putting a dangerous stress on the word. When she looked at him in confusion, he scowled darkly at her. "Yeah, right. Who is he?"

"_What_?" In a million years, it would never have occurred to Hermione that _Ron_ of all people would be the quickest to figure it out. "Ron, I don't know what you're talking about, but I have to go."

"You're with a guy!" Ron nearly yelled. Hermione, who hadn't even been up five minutes, struggled to formulate a response. Ron talked over her feeble stutters, though, reaching out to grasp her forearm. "Don't _lie_ to me! Who are you going out with?"

"Ron -" Hermione had no idea what she was going to say, so it was probably a good thing he interrupted again, this time with an outraged screech of discovery.

"_You – have – a – HICKEY_!" When Hermione tried to step back, Ron's hand shot out and jerked a tuft of her uncombed hair to the side, baring her neck completely. "I can't believe – why – who – _Hermione_!"

Hermione pulled her head away quickly, ignoring the sting of pain as not all of her hair left his grasping hand. "I have to _go_, Ron."

Ron was still staring at her in absolute disbelief. "I can't believe you'd _do_ this to me," he said, sounding hurt and disgusted.

"I have to go to the library," Hermione repeated, feeling ashamed of herself. Then she processed what Ron had said. "Do this to _you_? I'm not doing anything to you! What, you think I'm _cheating_ on you? We're not even together! You, you have a _girlfriend_, Ronald! Let _go_ of me!" She managed to wrench her arm from his tightening grip. "Stop pulling me about! How _dare_ you?"

Ron was staring at her abstractly, not having listened to a single word of her impressively furious little speech. Instead his mind had been fully taken up by figuring something out. "Merlin's underwear," he said slowly and awfully, taking a step back as if she was contaminating him. "I know who he is. It's so _obvious_." Ron gave a harsh laugh. "You think you're so clever, but it's _obvious_!"

Hermione felt her heartbeat stop for a second, before returning at double speed. _I never expected this to happen so soon_. When she'd woken up she'd been so content, but now – joy at Ron's obvious jealousy mingled with anger at his presumption overpowered by fear that he _knew_, how could he know, what would she do – Hermione felt like she'd been harshly jolted awake.

"Ernie," Ron said through gritted teeth. "Merlin, it's so obvious, who else could you spend time with at the _library_? Is it him? Hermione, I swear -"

"Shut up," Hermione interrupted, filled with relief that he didn't really know. Even if he still knew far too much for her peace of mind. "You don't have any right to judge me – any right at all. I'm not your girlfriend, and if you keep acting like this I never _will _be! Go back to your blow-up bimbo!" And with that, she left the room, not even looking behind her to check if he followed her.

* * *

Ginny lay in bed, lethargic. She didn't know why. It wasn't like she'd done anything. She couldn't even really go outside her room or Blaise's anymore – which was unfortunately lending credibility to the still-circulating rumours. But it was bad enough walking through the halls to her classes, considering the general opinion of the school towards her.

She'd started wearing one of Fr – _George's_ shielded cloaks at all times, after the first two jinxes came close to hitting her. It was a good thing, too, or Ginny would now have the appearance of a particularly warty blancmange. Still, the shield did nothing to stop the taunts – "_Whore. Traitor. Bitch. Slut." _The wizarding world would not forgive the girl who had supposedly cheated on the Chosen One.

Ginny knew only three people who truly believed her. One was Neville, but he was too busy in the greenhouses these days to do more than smile at her sympathetically whenever he saw her. Luna had sent a letter with the paragraph "_What a load of globbertrops to think you'd do something so horrible! Daddy and I refuse to print anything about it, not like that horrible _Daily Prophet" followed by several pages of laudatory comments about the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. Though Luna had offered to return to the school in order to help Ginny out, Ginny couldn't bring herself to take Luna away from her new job as a full-time writer for her father's magazine.

In short, the only thing Ginny got from her two friend's reassurances was the knowledge that _The Daily Prophet _had indeed got hold of the story, and when she read it Ginny found it was just as horrible as she'd imagined – thank heavens Molly and Arthur refused to get _The Daily Prophet_ any more, or Ginny didn't know what she'd do.

All Ginny had was Blaise, and she was rapidly getting more afraid of what would happen if she lost him.

* * *

Hermione Granger honestly couldn't believe where she was – she felt like cursing Draco Malfoy to the ends of the earth, but he'd shrewdly confiscated her wand before apparating them here.

After they'd met, he'd taken her through one of the (numerous) secret passages out of the school, and then apparated them both to what Hermione had no hesitations in labelling _Hell_.

Otherwise known as _Pierre's Hair and Beauty._

"I hate you," Hermione said, staring at the blank wall.

"Awww," Pierre gave a little smile as he started trimming her fringe. "She feels _amor _for you really, Draco, _mon petit_!" His French was so badly pronounced that Hermione had to stifle a laugh in order to keep her sullen face on.

Draco rolled his eyes. "No she doesn't, you're half a foot shorter than me, and drop the accent."

Pierre affected horror, throwing up his hands. Hermione shrank away from his left hand, which still held the razor sharp scissors, as he began gesticulating wildly. "Ah, _mon frere_, my Draco, _dios -_"

"That's Spanish," Draco accused. "_Dios_ is Spanish. Please stop it, Phil, there's no one else here and you aren't impressing either of us."

"I speak French," Hermione interjected. Badly, of course, but that wasn't relevant. "I take it this – this _jerk_ -" she broke off for a second to glare at Draco. "- gets his hair cut here? Or does he bring other girls to suffer through this torture?"

Pierre – _Phil_ – laughed. "Nah," he admitted, dropping his French affectations. "We're childhood friends. Sort of. I used to babysit him, sometimes."

"Your family knows someone called Phil?" Hermione said incredulously. "But everyone has names like, like Narcissa, and Draco, and -"

"Philemon," interpolated Phil. "Believe me, Phil is a better choice." He turned her head slightly and continued snipping expertly. "I take it you're a Hogwarts kid, too? I'm Durmstrang myself. My family felt it was important to immerse myself in the Dark Arts."

"And you decided to be a hairdresser," Hermione mused, still in a foul temper. "Makes sense. Both focused on pain."

"Ouch," Phil looked around. Draco had disappeared. "That's the second time you've said this is like torture. You must be the most ungrateful person whose hair I've ever cut. We have a waiting period of six months here, you know. Though this _fully_ deserved the title emergency."

"Hey!" Hermione tried to turn and shoot him a glare, but he kept a firm hold on her head.

"Well, come on, darling, when did you last get it cut?" Phil tutted, grabbing a steel comb for a particularly difficult bit. "When you have to cut parts of someone's hair just to start _brushing _it, that's a warning sign."

"I've been busy," Hermione mumbled. She decided to change the subject. "Why are you doing it?"

"I owe Draco a lot of favours," Phil said easily. "He said you were going to be in an important interview, and that you were nervous. So he decided on operation makeover… You must be very important to him."

"I'm not," Hermione said firmly.

Phil raised an eyebrow, even though he knew Hermione couldn't see it. "Are you sure? Because Draco hasn't asked me for anything since he was nine and wanted cookies before dinner. He hates owing people favours."

"I thought you said you owe him favours," Hermione winced as he pulled the comb through a particularly tough knot.

"I do, but he denies it," Phil hesitated, before deciding to be honest. After all, Draco hated people knowing he was human, and Phil wanted a bit of revenge for being saddled with this thoroughly uncooperative girl with her bird's nest of hair. "I was pretty much exiled from pureblood society after I came out as gay. Even though I was a bit of a cliche beforehand, it seemed to surprise them. Draco convinced his mother to persuade her friends to come to this place anyway – pretty much saved it single-handedly." With a deft pull, Phil got rid of the last knot. "I'm not _accepted_ in society, of course, but at least now I can make money from them."

"They kick people out for being gay?" Hermione whispered, horrified.

She felt Phil's shrug. "Gay, disobedient, really ugly, promiscuous, disabled, a squib – the list is very long. You thought purebloods were accepting?"

"No, I just didn't -" Hermione collected herself. It had still surprised her, even after all this time, to hear that. "I guess it kind of sucks to be one of them."

For once, there was a pause in Phil's efficient movements. "Yes," he said finally. "It kind of does."

And she knew that both of them were thinking of Draco.

* * *

"My mother wrote to me about what happened," Blaise said softly in Isabelle's ear. He'd tracked her down in an empty classroom, where she seemed to be brewing some kind of potion. Her reaction was satisfying – she stiffened in immediate horror. "Why didn't you _tell_ us, Iz?"

She turned to him, face dark with rage, and pointed her wand at him. He raised his immediately in return. "Tell you _what_?" she challenged, though it was obvious she knew. "And don't call me 'Iz'."

"I'm sorry," Blaise said honestly, feeling a little bad for creeping up on her. Hey, even Slytherins had _some _morals. Not a lot, but some. "About your father. He was a good man."

Isabelle laughed – a tiny, broken laugh. "You didn't even know him, so how do you know he was a good man? And how did you hear?"

Blaise rolled his eyes. "There is no secret sufficiently well-kept that it doesn't reach my mother's ears eventually, And she sent me a letter – Isabelle, you should have told us. Three weeks is too long to keep something as important as this to yourself. You need the people around you -"

With a little cry, Isabelle launched herself into Blaise's arms, weeping openly. He held her closely, feeling immensely guilty. How had he not noticed she was grieving? Well, of course, he didn't know her that well, but they'd been _sleeping_ together. He should have – "Where's the letter?" Isabelle sobbed dramatically.

"My back pocket," Blaise replied automatically. "Listen, Iz -"

"_Obliviate_," Isabelle murmured, her voice perfectly even. She'd still been holding her wand when she hugged him. She stepped back from him, a slight smile on her face. "You _have_ gotten soft, haven't you, Blaise? Or maybe you always were soft. My father's death means _nothing_ to me – _you_ mean nothing to me." She probed into his memories, removing certain parts, before slowly and methodically tearing the letter to pieces in front of his blank eyes. "And _don't call me 'Iz'._"

* * *

Three hours later, Hermione had more or less calmed down. Admittedly, she was still annoyed at Draco for this – after all, he'd dragged her to a place he knew she'd hate, against all school rules, and then left her there alone – but Phil's simple company was making her feel much better. There was only one thing that annoyed her.

"Come _on_, you've finished nearly all those spells on my face, you said so," Hermione snapped. "Let me see the mirror."

"Uh-uh," Phil waved a finger at her. "No. Boss's orders, you don't get to see yourself." He was absorbed in muttering a new spell at her eyebrows that would leave them perfectly plucked for the next few months.

"Doesn't it annoy you, how he's always in charge?" Hermione bit out. "I mean, he's not here. And you used to _babysit_ him, so you must have been the boss then -"

"Yes, but not of Draco," Phil said absentmindedly. He seemed to be measuring her eyebrow. "I was mainly there to take care of his -" he stopped, suddenly. "Never mind."

"His…?" Hermione stared at him.

After a tense minute of staring at each other, Phil looked away in surrender. "Draco used to have a sister," he admitted. "It was a long time ago. Don't you _dare_ mention it to him – especially not this time of year, since it's the anniversary of her death. Okay?"

The flippant way he tossed off this unbelievable fact left Hermione sitting in stunned silence, which allowed Phil to complete the incantations. He'd barely finished the last sentence when Draco returned, holding a bag that despite its small size looked incredibly heavy – suggesting an undetectable extension charm.

"What's that?" Hermione said caustically, trying to banish from her mind the picture of Draco with a sister. "Modelling clothing?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Now that you mention it," he drawled. "Yes."

* * *

"I know what you're up to," Carly said, adding an ugly little titter to the end.

"Yes?" Blaise said politely, giving her his most charming smile. He'd been waiting outside the Gryffindor Common Room for Ginny for quite a while now, and he was thoroughly enjoying it. When older Gryffindors passed, they'd insult him or just glare at him, but when the younger ones passed him their look was one of unbridled admiration. Some of the girls, especially, seemed fascinated by what _The Daily Prophet_ had termed "the man who Ginny Weasley deemed better than the Chosen One".

When this ended, he was never going to have trouble getting laid ever again. He'd stolen a woman from Harry Potter. He was at the top…

"I _know_ what you're _up to_," Carly said again. Blaise refrained from rolling his eyes. And was then surprised – rolling his eyes wasn't really in his repertoire. Cool sarcasm was for Astoria, Isabelle and Malfoy; which led Blaise to the disturbing conclusion that they were rubbing off on him. He wasn't sure he liked that.

"And I repeat – yes? What am I up to?" He looked her up and down, deliberately portraying admiration at her figure – though, privately, he couldn't help thinking that she wasn't that attractive. Compared to Ginny's strong, slender, coltish figure, he thought Carly's spilling-over breasts and curvy legs were a bit, well, excessive. And her dry blonde hair, compared to Ginny's river of fire – she just didn't match up.

Carly narrowed her eyes, making her even less attractive to the bored Blaise. "I _know what you're up to_. You and that little bitch, Isabelle, who's always hanging around my Harry Potter."

"I was under the impression you were dating the other one." Blaise replied. "And I barely even know Isabelle, she's just a girl in my house." _Deny everything._

"I know what you're up to," Carly said, _yet again_. Blaise began to seriously consider just hexing her. "You're trying to take Harry Potter away from me – you get rid of Ginny Weasley, and Mulciber swoops in and takes the Chosen One. I'm going to tell them."

"Go right ahead," Blaise said, deciding that someone really should have strangled this annoying girl at birth. When Draco had spoken nastily about the Weasel in the past, Blaise had always assumed that that was prejudice – the guy couldn't be a war hero and be as dumb as Draco said. Now, he had no doubts. What kind of person would willingly spend time with this girl? "Just go ahead somewhere else, would you? Oh, look, Ginny's here. Go vomit paranoia on someone else, I'm busy now."

Carly's eyes narrowed still further as Blaise joined the silent, pale Ginny. There was something going on here. _And I'm going to prove it.

* * *

_

The first thing Draco and Phil made her try on was a tiny little T-shirt with a red heart on it, paired with _very_ low jeans. There were still no mirrors, but just by looking down Hermione could see the vast quantities of skin revealed.

"Sexy," Phil decided, looking at her.

Draco nodded. "Hot."

"Trashy," Hermione said flatly.

"I'm sorry, did we ask for your opinion?" Draco said. "Too informal for the interviews, though. Let's try the red dress."

The red dress was off-the-shoulder, made of a shiny, slippery material, and so clingy and short that Hermione was convinced it had originally been designed as a nightdress. Phil added chunky red shoes so high Hermione felt like she was walking on stilts. However, while she called it "slutty and uncomfortable" the boys ignored her completely and chucked it into the Keep pile.

From then on, in Hermione's eyes, it was downhill all the way. Daring, sexy little numbers were added in vast numbers to the growing pile – short skirts, strappy tops, dresses which clung to her breasts or flirted with her thighs – while the one pair of jeans Hermione actually kind-of-liked had caused Phil to dope-slap Draco. "What _were_ you _thinking_? …Straight guys."

Then came the moment when Hermione left the tiny changing room wearing a pink dress she knew she'd never wear – it didn't show much skin at all, really, but somehow it seemed so sensual that she felt awkward just looking at it. It was reasonably long, reaching down past her knees; the colour was innocent, almost virginal; it covered her breasts nearly completely. And yet… it was sexy, she could see that just by looking at it.

"Oh," Draco said. There was a world of meaning in that noise – his mouth dropping slightly open, his eyes becoming so intense she couldn't look away, and a slight flush rising to his cheeks. All of his previous "stunnings" and "brilliants" had seemed directed more towards the clothes than her, but this was for her. This was all for her.

For some strange reason, that returned to Hermione a bit of the contentment that Ron had so thoroughly smashed earlier with his anger.

"We need to show her this one," Phil said immediately, and with a flick of his wand a mirror appeared.

Hermione's first thought was that it couldn't be her. She didn't look like her, in any way. This girl – this girl was beautiful.

Her hair gleamed – it could never be described with the boring word brown, now, it was a shining chestnut colour. The ringlets cascaded down her back and around her shoulders, framing her face. She swung her head and watched the curls bounce, catching the light. It was longer than she'd thought, too; now that it wasn't all frizzed up, it went halfway down her back. Like a princess or a fairy from a story.

"All I did was cut it and condition the hell out of it," Phil said nervously, as Hermione continued to swing her hair, watching transfixed as it moved. "I didn't have to curl it, it did that on it's own."

Hermione noticed that now her hair didn't inhabit her face, it was a lot easier to see her eyes. They seemed bigger and clearer – had Phil done that with spells? No, she was sure he would have mentioned that. Her eyebrows weren't thin, but they were thinner than they had been, arched, making her face seem much more expressive. She'd always thought of her eyes as brown, the same as her hair, but they were a clear chocolate colour. They weren't the same colour as her hair, but they complemented each other nicely. Hermione's eyelashes were long and curly, making her eyes look even larger. It also made her look more innocent – like she was peeping out at the world.

Her lips and nose were much the same as they'd always been, except now they added to the prettiness of her face and the slight upturn of her nose seemed charmingly individual instead of silly-looking. Her lips – well, they'd always been her best feature. She remembered Victor stammering out once that they were the most kissable lips he'd ever seen.

The light, innocent pink of dress brought out the roses in her lips and cheeks and looked beautiful against the brown of her eyes and the darker brown of her hair, and even against the ivory of her skin. It looked demure, but really it clung to every inch of her body, the silk whispering sensually every time she shifted. The low heels she wore with it made her legs look impossibly long and slender, whereas the contrast between the girlishly pretty golden necklace and the way its heart-shaped pendant hung sexily in the valley between her breasts… well. Even her neck looked long and slender and beautiful.

"Wow," Hermione whispered, and watched the strange beauty in the mirror do the same. She spun around, watching the silken material of the dress's skirt flare out and then slowly float back down.

And then, in the mirror, a man appeared behind the girl. Handsome, slightly dangerous, everything about him a contrast and yet perfect. He rested his chin on her head, and then moved down to kiss her cheek, moving with that perfect, panther-like grace. "Yes," he agreed, "Wow."

And then he turned her around and kissed her.

* * *

"Ron? What on earth?" Ernie MacMillan said in complete and utter amazement as Ron Weasley pushed all his books off the table onto the floor. "What are you doing?"

Ron leaned in and grabbed the neck of his shirt, pointing his wand straight in Ernie's face. His own face was nearly as red as his hair, and he looked angrier than Ernie had ever seen him. "_STAY AWAY FROM HERMIONE!_"

Since Ron was nearly a foot taller than Ernie, no one blamed the boy for letting out a little "Eep!" and trying to hide under the table as soon as Ron let go.

"_DON'T GO NEAR HER!"_

"I-I haven't sp-spoken to Hermione outside class for weeks, she's busy, she's always busy," Ernie stuttered, terrified, squishing himself against the floor and trying to remember how to cast a shield charm. But it didn't matter. Ron was already gone.

"This place gets weirder every day," Hannah Abbot remarked as her friend warily sat back down. "Wonder what's going on there?"

* * *

It had started out as a game.

Not Isabelle's game, really. Oh, it was her idea, but this thing with Hermione had always been Draco's game. Especially today – see how the bookworm looks all prettied-up!

It was supposed to be a game.

And then he'd seen her in that pink dress, and Draco had realised that it wasn't a game. He had been happy – ecstatic – and not because he was going to have the hottest girl in the world in his bed tonight, but because she'd been happy.

Her smile had lit up her face. Draco had caught himself thinking that she was beautiful – not in the bleak, assessing, _calculating_ way he thought it about other girls. That was about pride in his achievement in getting them and using them. But when he'd looked at Hermione, her beauty had somehow made him feel less and more at the same time. _Less_, because he didn't deserve this, not really, and _more _because he'd made her happy and because she was with him and because he got to _see_ her like that. See her glowing.

It wasn't a game.

Draco struggled to understand this new revelation, that he couldn't view it like he did his other conquests. Because their beauty had always been of skin and bone and hair, and Hermione had something _more_ and he didn't know if he could handle _more_. Her presence, her soul, her fire – she glowed on her own. Argumentative and hot and curious and shy and wonderful.

It should have been a game.

_The weekend is over now_, Draco told himself strictly. _From now on – just sex. Only sex._

He looked at the sleeping beauty beside him. Hermione was even smiling in her sleep, a soft curve to those lips that drove him wild, her smooth dark hair held loosely by a blue ribbon. He caught himself reaching a hand out to touch her smooth face and stopped himself just in time.

_What does an addict do? Cold turkey. Only sex, from now on._ Draco got up and left the room, leaving Hermione to slumber alone.

It was harder than he thought it would be.

He did it anyway.

* * *

**So. I thought I'd use this chapter to show some of Draco and Isabelle's little secrets, the effect of this game on Blaise, Carly's personality (yes, folks, she has one! But it's _really _annoying) and a make-over. I love make-overs, that's why there may have been a little too much detail there.**

**Also: I'm going to be away for a while. Hopefully not too long.**


	11. She Will Be Loved

_Beauty queen of only eighteen_

_She had some trouble with herself_

_He was always there to help her_

_She always belonged to someone else_

- Maroon 5

* * *

It was before breakfast on a Monday, and Blaise found himself dreading the day. Who wouldn't? He was helping Astoria out with some part of Isabelle's little plot. Which also meant no Ginny.

"Ah, Minion Number Two," Astoria said brightly, leaping to her feet gracefully as soon as he arrived at the table. Several Slytherins looked around, making Blaise glare at Astoria.

"Stop calling me that," he growled, taking the seat next to the one she'd vacated and reaching his fork out to snare some bacon. Before he could stab it, Astoria grabbed his arm and pulled him up.

"Come on, Minion Number Two, time to go to work," Astoria said, both cheerful and immovable. With a sigh, Blaise allowed her to drag him away, only pausing to check whether Ginny had seen that exchange. Of course, she wasn't – she'd been getting an understanding house elf to deliver most of her meals ever since the break-up. "By the way, do you think that dark-haired Hufflepuff was staring at me?"

"Yes," Blaise replied grouchily, pulling away from her as they exited the great hall. "Every guy in there was staring at you." For a second, Astoria stopped walking to stare at him, and Blaise added infelicitously, "Because you dress like a slut."

"I dress like a _slut_?" Astoria repeated, her voice rising towards the end of the sentence and her flattered expression disappearing immediately. She started walking again, a little quicker, and Blaise hurried to keep up.

"Well, since you are one, I guess it's more of a uniform," Blaise said without thinking. "_As _a slut rather than _like _a slut."

Astoria glared at him. "You're just jealous because I'm getting more action than you."

"Astoria, you're getting more action than the entire eighth year," Blaise rolled his eyes, trying to hide his pleasure at finally having won an exchange.

"Hmm," Astoria stared at him for a second, considering, than went into a peal of laughter. "Brilliant Draco impersonation. Except you don't have the looks to carry it off. He's cool and insulting, whereas you're just pathetic."

"At least _I'm _not in love with him," Blaise returned, his temper rising too. He _hated_ being compared to Draco Malfoy – Draco, a Death Eater at sixteen, the iconic Slytherin of their year. Always so much more noticeable than the invisible Blaise.

Astoria bared her teeth. "I don't love anyone. I don't even really need anyone. Unlike some of us, who dream of boning blood traitors. That's you – can't even score with the biggest outcast in Hogwarts."

"I can have her any time I want," Blaise defended.

Suddenly, Astoria grabbed his arm and yanked, sending him stumbling until his back hit the wall. Instantly she was pressed against him, lips an inch from his. "Any time, huh?"

It was difficult to concentrate with her pressed against him like that. "I – Astoria – yes, any time." He could feel his face going red (thankfully hidden partially by his dark skin) as she rubbed herself sinuously against him, starting up other uncontrollable physical reactions as well. "Don't -"

Astoria laughed and jerked away, then moved her eyes downwards to stare very obviously at his crotch. She reminded him of nothing so much as an arrogant, sleek, cruel feline at the moment. "No control at all, huh, Blaise darling? Still a horny fifteen year old at heart, desperate for anyone who comes your way. The Weaselette had the Chosen One. She can do better than you, and she knows it. Or maybe she will have sex with you… staring at the ceiling, imagining black hair, green eyes… or maybe just imagining anyone but you. And you'll be too desperate to care." She smiled wickedly and turned to walk again, leaving a breathless and humiliated Blaise trying to formulate a response. "Don't try to beat me with words, idiot. You're second-rate, but I'm the most beautiful girl at this school…and you know it."

* * *

Unbeknownst to her, Astoria's status as the most attractive of the Hogwarts students was being challenged even as she spoke. Because Hermione Granger had just walked into the Great Hall.

Hermione had woken up early that morning, feeling cold and alone. The first word out of her mouth had been "Draco?" and she'd immediately berated herself for it. Just because they'd spent the weekend together – then she'd realised he might be doing what he had on Saturday again. Getting her breakfast.

She'd waited what she knew was an excessive amount of time for him to return, before miserably concluding that he really had left. "Maybe he's catching up on homework," she told the mirror firmly as she cleaned her teeth. "Or he has to meet someone." After that, she went over to the draw where she'd stashed some clean clothes for her use and searched for a uniform, slightly uncomfortable with her nudity – though not nearly as much as she had been a few weeks ago.

To her complete lack of surprise, Draco had removed all of her old, dowdy uniforms and replaced them with a slightly tighter and shorter version. She winced as she climbed into them. _I look like a schoolgirl prostitute_. Hermione had to admit that wasn't exactly fair, though – the new outfits only showed a couple of extra inches in her legs, and weren't nearly as skin-tight as some student's uniforms. But compared to her old ones…

_Brand new day,_ Hermione told herself resolutely. _New clothes, new hair, new Hermione. _She smiled as she caught sight of one of Draco's Slytherin ties that must have fallen in with her things. _New hot, wicked lover._

Still, she hovered for a while, indecisive. Wondering if she should just make a run for the Gryffindor dormitory in yesterday's clothes (hoping Ron didn't see her) and find some of her uniforms that hadn't been replaced. Eventually, however, she took a deep breath and left the room. She felt strange, sick and hot, but she put it down to nervousness.

She reached the Great Hall without seeing anyone else, so walking into the Great Hall alone and late showed everyone her new look at once. And the reaction was exactly what Draco had predicted.

"Who is – _no way!_"

"_Hermione_?"

"It's _Granger_!"

"Can't be!"

"Hermione Granger!"

"_Whoa_!"

"Hermione?" Ron said, flabbergasted. Harry, who had just nabbed a seat opposite him, looked surprised but not very concerned.

"Huh, she got a haircut," Harry remarked absently. "Looks nice."

Ron spun round to stare at him, stunned. "_Nice_! She looks like -"

"A _goddess_," Dean supplied, looking slightly cross-eyed. He caught Ron's look. "I mean, as a friend! A distant friend! … Ernie said to tell you he's sorry about yesterday."

"Sorry about what?" Harry asked curiously.

"Ron beat him up," Dean said critically, still not taking his eyes off Hermione. "Wow, look at her _legs_…"

"What? _Why_?" Harry felt very out of the loop. _Great. I lose the Weasleys and now no one tells me anything!_

"Thought he was dating Hermione," Ron said briefly, after Harry repeated himself a few times. "Turns out I was wrong."

"What clued you into that?" Dean said sarcastically, before swallowing nervously. "Oh, _Merlin_, she's coming this way!"

"She sits here every day," Harry pointed out, annoyed. He couldn't see what all the fuss was about. Not that her hair wasn't nice, but it was, well, hair. "Hey, 'Mione. You look nice."

Ron seemed unable to speak.

Hermione smiled at them all, feeling slightly uncomfortable. It felt like everyone in the Hall was staring at her – minus one, of course, When she'd come in she'd automatically looked to Draco for guidance, but he hadn't even looked up. He'd seemed deep in conversation with a fourth-year boy. And even when someone had grabbed his arm to point her out, he'd let his gaze float right by her like she wasn't there. No reaction at all. And then, he'd left, again without looking at her. "Hey, Harry," she replied. "How are you going on your Potions assignment?"

"Haven't started," Harry said honestly, still too distracted by the news about Ernie. "We were just discussing how Ron beat up Ernie for no reason."

"There was a reason!" Ron managed to object, tearing his eyes away from the vision before him. It would have been too much to say that she was unrecognisable as Hermione Granger – it was more that she looked like what Hermione would look like if you added 'agonizingly beautiful' to her description. He could barely breath.

The vision scowled at him. "Ron, you prat. I _told _you he wasn't who I was dating."

"You're dating someone?" A nearby sixth year asked mournfully. When Ron and Hermione both glared at him, he quickly added, "I mean, you're dating someone! Way to go!" Hermione smiled and he looked relieved.

"_Way to go_?" Ron said icily. The sixth year blanched and gave a quick wave, deciding it was time to go to class. Ron turned back to Hermione. "When did you…" Ron then managed to say, weakly, to Hermione. "I mean, how did all this…"

"I got a haircut," Hermione said coolly. "And some clothes. For my birthday."

"But your birthday was -" Harry began, and then let out a small noise of pain when Hermione kicked him under the table. He gave in. "I'd better get to class."

Hermione grabbed a slice of marmalade toast. "Me too." She decided she didn't want to be here when Ron jumped to the conclusion that the new look was to impress the guy she was seeing. After all, he'd probably start yelling.

"My wittle Dalmatian!" Carly cooed, announcing her arrival by climbing into Ron's lap. She pretended to be oblivious to how he was staring at Hermione Granger, and started finger-combing his hair. "I haven't seen you for ages!" Hermione felt a pang of hurt again.

"Now we're definitely late," Hermione said grimly, stalking off. Harry caught up with her in a second.

"Still angry at him?" Harry said after a minute.

Hermione turned to look at him, eyes burning. "He kissed me and then chose someone else," Hermione said bluntly. She'd never done that before, just laying her feelings out for Harry to see. "I wasn't worth choosing, to him."

"How long can you stay mad?" Harry reasoned.

Hermione flashed him a bleak grin. " Ginny chose you and then kissed someone else. Just as bad. How long can you stay mad for that?" When Harry winced, she immediately felt guilty. "Oh, God, Harry, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking." She wrapped her arms around him, just hugging him as people flowed around them, staring. "I should never have told you I saw them in the first place," she said, her voice muffled. _And I shouldn't be so busy with Draco that I don't spend time with you, either._

"Yeah, you should have," Harry said, his voice sounding a little croaky. He coughed, and then rested his chin gingerly on her head. "It's okay."

They both moved back, feeling a little awkward. "I _am _still sorry, though," Hermione bit her lip. "Sorry that I haven't been much help."

Harry shrugged. "I know you're busy with everything. I mean, it's NEWT year, we all knew you'd go insane," he joked feebly. "Besides, I've been spending a lot of time hanging out with Belle, when she isn't busy."

"Belle?" Hermione asked, her mind suddenly distracted as she noticed Draco ahead of them. She willed him to turn around. It was what he always did when they were walking in the same corridor – well, for the past week, anyway – he always turned around and gave her a little smirk. It was so quick that no one else ever seemed to notice, but it always made her feel warm. It was one of a series of things that made her think of him during each day when they were apart – the deliberate brush of his body against hers in a crowded corridor, his eyes on the back of her head in a classroom, the way he lay his hand on the nape of her neck as he passed by her seat. Little, phantom touches that nevertheless told her the hot nights weren't just her wishful imagination. That she had someone, sort of, even if it was only lust and slight affection… wasn't it? Hermione put a hand to her head. She felt slightly sick, thinking about all this.

Harry shrugged again. "I forgot, you don't really know her. She's a friend. Pretty girl, seventh-year, dark hair…" he trailed off as he noticed the thoughtful look Hermione was giving him, and narrowed his eyes. "She's _just_ a friend. She makes me feel…" he searched for the right words. "Less empty."

Hermione's mind went instantly to Draco. She didn't love him – they weren't even friends with benefits, because they weren't friends. Enemies with benefits, maybe. But he did make her feel less empty. "Maybe you should be more than friends," she said impulsively, still waiting for Draco to turn his head and look at her. "If she helps."

"What?" Harry looked confused.

"Maybe," Hermione said, still following her change of thoughts. "Maybe it's worth following up on, if she's able to make you feel better."

"She's not Ginny," Harry said, but he looked thoughtful. "I don't feel as much for her as I did for Ginny."

Hermione noted the past tense. "Well, then she can't hurt you as much. And if it's not so urgent, maybe it'll have time to grow into something better without all the rest. Perhaps the feeling will grow, and it will last longer, even if it's not how you thought it would be. Maybe."

"Maybe," Harry echoed, and he really did look thoughtful now.

* * *

"_Reducto_!" Isabelle yelled, loudly exploding a cushion into a pile of ashes. They were practicing doing spells without saying them aloud, but who cared? Isabelle could already do that. She was, after all, something of a prodigy. And it felt so much more satisfying to yell.

_Why hadn't Harry Potter asked her out?_ Isabelle just couldn't understand. She'd been the perfect friend – perfect _girlfriend_ – for the past four days. Nursing him through his heartbreak. Oh, Astoria could suggest it was too soon all she liked, but Isabelle knew better. He was at the perfect rebound stage… why couldn't he rebound on _her_? His whining about the Weasley girl was starting to make Isabelle feel physically ill.

And now, this morning, Granger had chosen to turn up looking like a freaking model. Potter had seemed unaffected, sure, but what if that changed? Isabelle knew that, looks-wise, she honestly couldn't compete with the new Granger. She also couldn't compete with Astoria on that ground, but Potter wasn't the type who fell for bad girls so Isabelle was safe there. The Weasley girl might be pretty in an odd sort of way (as Blaise's drooling attested) but her 'betrayal' had doomed any chance she had. That little bitch the Weasel was dating wouldn't even be a threat if she snuck into his room and did the dance of the dozen veils.

But now, Isabelle had a serious threat. And when Isabelle was threatened, she retaliated.

_Time to move up the pace_, Isabelle thought grimly, destroying another pillow messily and ignoring the teacher's squawking. She had planned Granger's defeat for next Thursday, well, she'd move it to this Friday. After all, she had the perfect weapon.

* * *

"Why am I here?" Blaise said plaintively. "I don't want to talk to Pansy."

"You have to," Astoria glared at him. Ever since the incident in the hall, neither had stopped glaring at the other. "She hates me, she hates Isabelle, and of course, she hates Draco. That's why you're here, to talk to the girls who don't like me."

"Fine," Blaise sighed, stepping forward and knocking as Astoria faded into the background. "Pansy, hello!" he put on an eager face as the girl stepped out, feeling like a door-to-door salesman. "I'm here to talk to you about Draco Malfoy."

"That bastard?" Pansy let out a harsh laugh. "He's been ignoring me for weeks. The other day he told me I was too ugly and annoying to ever be his girlfriend! Bastard!" she pointed her wand at Blaise, looking furious. "Are you here to try and convince me -"

"I hate Malfoy too," Blaise inserted quickly. "He hurt… uh, a good friend of mine. Whose name I can't tell you, because she wants to be kept anonymous," Blaise gabbled, before forcing himself to act more normal. He was the best damn liar on the face of the earth – it was just that Pansy's bulgy little eyes made him feel like he was being threatened by a psychotic hamster, and that unnerved him. "But she's organising… this thing. This big revenge."

He explained the details quickly, and was heartily relieved when she closed the door.

Astoria stepped out of the shadows, looking perturbed. "Yeah, you're going to have to talk to her again," she said evilly.

"What? Why?"

"Isabelle just sent me this airplane," Astoria held it up as proof. "Written on it is 'change the date from next Thursday to this Friday'. We're going to have to visit every girl we've seen again, and tell them the change."

"Oh, great," Blaise exhaled noisily. Suddenly something occurred to him. "Malfoy won't be… angry… that we're doing this, will he? It could harm his chances of getting laid -"

"Nothing could harm that boy's chances of getting laid," Astoria said crushingly. "He's not like you. If anything, this will up his bad boy reputation. He'll love it." She glanced at him sideways, through her eyelashes. "But don't you worry. Even if the big scary Draco does get mad with poor little you, I'm sure Mummy Isabelle will protect you."

Blaise said a very rude word in reply, and stepped forward to knock again on Pansy Parkinson's door.

* * *

Ginny sat alone in her bed, hugging a childhood toy to her and staring ahead. Blaise had said he was _busy_. What did that mean? She _needed_ him, didn't he understand that? She was all alone. She had no one. There was a letter from her parents on the bed in front of her, but she couldn't bring herself to open it, because what would they say? What if they took Harry's side? They'd always loved him so much.

If Blaise was here he would be listening to her rehash her and Harry's break-up again. He always listened, even though they'd gone through it a hundred times, and he always vowed it was a hundred percent Harry's fault.

Sometimes Ginny thought she should kiss Blaise for real. Because if she did, then he'd have a reason to stay. Why was he sticking with her, even though everyone hated him for it? Even his own house, that had apparently started out by applauding him for supposedly breaking up her and Harry, now were angry because he was friends with a Gryffindor. He'd told her that. She was scared he'd leave her alone - since Fred's death, the only things that had stopped her feeling alone were Harry, Ron and Hermione. All the rest of her brothers were far away. But now Harry was a cheater, Hermione was a bitch, and Ron was "busy" - just like Blaise was "busy". If she kissed him, maybe he'd have a reason to be with her, so she wouldn't feel so scared that he might leave her all alone.

But that was stupid. A stupid reason to kiss someone.

* * *

Hermione felt very tired and headachey by the end of the day, and very annoyed with Draco. He'd completely ignored her for the whole day. Irrationally, this made her need to see him even more, if only to yell at him.

What if… what if he was bored with her? If he was done with her now? Hermione swallowed back a feeling of panic. How would she manage without him?

She found herself, without quite realising it, walking to their secret room, feeling very strange inside. It was far too early in the evening for him to be there. She felt dizzy. Why were things moving so much?

Hermione leaned her head against a wall, enjoying the coolness. She really didn't feel quite right… she had to see Draco. Had to find out why he was ignoring her. She staggered towards the door.

Suddenly, Ron was tapping her shoulder. "Hermione? I need to talk to you -" he started to say.

Hermione opened her mouth, trying to say that she felt unwell as she staggered forwards another step.

Ron's voice changed entirely. "Oh, in a hurry to get to loverboy?" he spat out, and then he was gone, before Hermione was able to reply.

Somehow, without noticing how, she landed on her hands and knees, on the ground, crawling along. Where _was _everyone? It seemed like ages, but she must have reached the room, because Draco was staring down at her in concern. "Draco," she managed to say, and to her surprise her eyes were tearing up. "Don't feel well."

Draco lifted her up carefully, holding her in his arms effortlessly. "Alright," his voice was soothing. He laid his forehead against hers, then jerked away. "You're really hot," he said, sounding a little more worried. "I'm taking you to the infirmary."

Hermione thrashed against him. "No," she said, breathing hard. She didn't think she could make it all the way there, even carried. Besides, what would people think if they saw him carrying her like this? Her whole body seemed somehow itchy and uncomfortable…she'd felt this way before. Hermione was surprised she hadn't noticed earlier how bad it was, when she'd started feeling sick. "The flu, I have the flu, that's all. No infirmary."

Draco hesitated, looking like he would argue, but when she started to struggle again his face softened. "All right, all right," he carried her into the room, and the next thing Hermione could feel were soft cool blankets.

Hermione wasn't really aware for the rest of the night. There was someone there, cleaning her when she threw up, holding cool clothes against her, lying in the bed next to her when she needed someone to press against. She wasn't sure if she'd ever felt sicker in her life, but he was there, and that made everything all right.

Absolutely everything.

* * *

**So, I'm back. As is obvious. You know, I spent hours and hours on this, and it still didn't come out quite the way I wanted it to. ****I wanted to study three different Gryffindor/Slytherin relationshios - one right, one wrong, and one which could go either way (guess which are which).**

**Things are (hopefully) about to start happening quicker. Including, you know, updates.**


	12. Disease

_I got a disease deep inside me_

_Makes me feel uneasy baby_

_I can't live without you_

_Tell me_

_What am I supposed to do about it_

_Keep your distance from me_

_Don't pay no attention to me_

_I got a disease_

- Matchbox 20

* * *

"Fever, throwing up, dizziness?" Madame Pomfrey said shortly. "Then she's got the same thing everyone else in here has got. It's a bug that's going around. Is your friend very sick?"

Draco pictured Hermione, her hair stuck to her face in sweaty tendrils as she tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. "Pretty sick, yeah."

Madame Pomfrey let out a sigh of pure frustration and grabbed a blue bottle from a tray of them. "Listen, I'm already very busy. Give her this potion and bring her in if she gets worse. I'm not even going to _ask_ how you ended up in your friend's room to take care of her." She turned around as a nearby patient let out a little moan and started to claw the air.

"Wait! How do I tell if she gets worse?" Draco felt helpless. He knew absolutely nothing about taking care of sick people.

Madame Pomfrey glared at him. She'd never quite forgiven him for letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts – which he couldn't exactly blame her for, even if her chief annoyance seemed to be that they'd knocked over some of her potions. "She'll start getting extremely vivid dreams – that's normal. But if she starts hallucinating, then bring her in. Now go away."

* * *

Harry watched Isabelle from across the room as she tried to manage a silent summoning charm. He couldn't help smiling, remembering how much trouble he'd had at unspoken spells. "You know what?" he said on impulse. "When I was learning this, it helped to learn some spells with good wand movements first. Like Wingardium Leviosa – it's got that _flick_." He demonstrated, thinking the spell, and the pillow Isabelle had been trying to summon shot into the air. He released it and it fell.

"I was never very good at that spell," Isabelle confessed, biting her lower lip and looking a little helpless. "I mean, I know it's supposed to be easy, but some spells I just find hard anyway. People are always teasing me about it." She tried a little flick, but the pillow didn't move.

"Well, they're idiots," Harry said, feeling protective. He didn't understand how anyone could tease Isabelle – she was so quiet, gentle and helpless. It was quite adorable really. "Here, look, you've just got to -" he reached out and put his hand over hers, both of them grasping the wand, and guided her into the flick. "Oh, okay, I thought that would work."

He looked at her and found she was staring at him, slightly flushed. "I, um, forgot to think the words," she stammered, looking away in embarrassment. But then Isabelle looked back at him, as if she just couldn't resist it. Harry, without thinking, leaned in and kissed her lightly.

_Finally_, thought Isabelle in disgust, as she deepened the kiss. _I was beginning to consider Love Potions.

* * *

_

Ron frowned at the board, but then moved a knight decisively. "Check."

"Oh, my Dalmatian is so clever, isn't he? Isn't he?" Carly crooned, blowing a loud kiss in Ron's ear. Ginny, sitting across from her brother, fought the urge to throw up. Honestly, what was wrong with this girl? She made Lavender's "Won-Won" and heart necklaces seem good taste in comparison.

Ginny reached out towards her rook, intending to use it to capture the knight, but a dark hand grasped her own and stopped it. "Bad move," a deep voice said in her ear.

Ginny turned in her seat, happy to see him. "Blaise! Hi!"

"Zabini," Ron said curtly. His tone was downright offensive. "How'd you get here?"

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "It's an empty classroom, _Dalmatian_, not a hotel room. I didn't exactly have to break in."

"Don't be a jerk, Ron, Blaise is a good guy. And good at chess. What did you mean, bad move?" Ginny looked at him hopefully.

"If you take the knight, his bishop can take your queen, and then all he'll have to do is move that rook one to the left and he's checkmated you," Blaise summarized. "By the way, the weather's really cleared up. We should go outside."

Ginny shrank back a bit. She didn't want to go where people could see her and be mean – two younger girls had already tried to spit on her, just on the way to the classroom. She'd had to stop Ron from hexing them – it had been a close call, especially since part of her had wanted him to.

Blaise felt a pang at her reaction. Ginny Weasley was a wreck these days – not that anyone but him seemed to notice. She was barely eating, hardly sleeping, and she huddled into herself all the time, like she was afraid someone would hit her. Oddly enough, all this made her more beautiful. Her lack of eating had stripped all the health away from her in days – he could see the outline of all her bones against her pale skin, if he looked hard enough, and her cheekbones seemed sharp enough to cut. In fact her skin was also much paler now, an almost luminescent white, which made the dark shadows under her tormented eyes even more noticeable. Complete with the tangle of red-gold hair, she seemed like a haunted princess from a story. Like she had to be saved.

But Blaise was no saviour. And her hero, her Chosen One, had left her.

"Come on, we'll go somewhere where there aren't many people," Blaise said strongly, banishing his sad thoughts – how girly were they? Ginny Weasley would get over this. Everyone had a traumatic first love. All they'd done was end it a few weeks earlier than it would have ended otherwise. "We could take a picnic," he added temptingly.

Carly let out a high-pitched noise. "I _love _picnics! Ronnie and I will come too."

Blaise glanced at her, suddenly suspicious. Just days ago she'd been convinced he was part of some nefarious plot, and now she wanted to go on a picnic with him? Bizarre. She was probably planning to trap him somehow and find out what he was up to.

Ginny was even more horrified at the idea of spending more time with Carly, but she suddenly felt guilty about how she'd been treating Blaise. They always did what she wanted – which was normally lying around in a dark room pretending to study while she monologued about how miserable her life was right now. He deserved better than this. "Sure, why not?" she strived to sound light. "It'll be fun."

* * *

Draco let himself into the room quietly, trying not to disturb his patient. She looked weak and defenceless. But then, she'd been acting fairly weak and defenceless all the time lately – and completely unlike Hermione Granger. He froze as that thought struck him. It was true, and he couldn't believe he was only just noticing the change in her.

Draco sat down next to the bed, contemplating her as she slept. This year – she _did _seem different. Draco touched his cheek, remembering a slap that had nearly knocked him over. She was covering up for it well, but the Hermione Granger who fought and argued and knew it all seemed to have disappeared this year.

Was it because she was sleeping with him?

Draco searched his mind, but came to the conclusion that that couldn't be the answer. After all, he'd spotted that something was bothering her before the first time they slept together. He'd just assumed it was only the Weasel's new girlfriend bugging her.

Hermione didn't put up her hand in class as much anymore. She didn't argue loudly with people in the Dining Hall. She didn't spend much time with her friends. She rarely laughed.

You had to be paying attention to notice – but Draco had been paying a lot of attention lately. Something had broken Hermione Granger, at least a little.

Draco prodded Hermione awake. "I got you some medicine," he said softly. "Come on, have some." He helped her to sit up and consume it. She collapsed back onto the bed and was asleep again instantly.

For a minute Draco thought optimistically that the medicine helped, but then she started tossing and turning again in her sleep. And then she started talking.

"Mum… please…"

"Don't go… snake… Nagini…"

"Don't go…Harry… Ron."

Draco lowered himself into the bed next to her, and she immediately clung to him tightly. He listened to the words she moaned – mainly the names of her friends and cries for her parents. It sounded like she was dreaming of what she'd been afraid of last year. She called out Bellatrix's name sometimes, sounding terrified, and Draco's heart clenched.

Draco didn't know what he could do. Well, he could wake her up, but then she'd just be exhausted as well as sick. So he just put his arms around her, holding her just as tightly as she was holding him.

"Draco…"

"Yes?" He turned to face her, assuming she'd woken up, but her eyes were still closed and she was shaking.

"Draco…please…" In Hermione's dream, Draco crumpled to the ground in a black-robed heap. He evaporated into dark smoke, that curled into the air. She thought she saw a taunting smile in the middle of the smoke, as if it was simply dark hair haloing a pale face, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that Draco was gone... "Draco."

Draco held her closer, feeling her rapid heartbeat against his chest. He felt a little sick – not sick like her, but ill at heart. She was probably dreaming of him hurting someone, and in her dreams she was pleading him to stop it. It hurt to know that was what she thought of him.

* * *

"You must think I'm such a slut," Isabelle nestled into the warmth of Harry's arms. "But… you know… that was my first time," she said confidingly, twisting to give him a little smile.

"Mine too," Harry replied, unable to pay attention to what she was saying. He couldn't stop thinking about Ginny. He'd always assumed the first girl he slept with would be her – and also assumed that they'd get married someday. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he'd already started playing with possible names for their children. But instead, here he was, in bed with a girl named Isabelle who he'd only known two weeks. He didn't know _anything_ about her, really. She was a Slytherin, she was in the year below him, she liked paper airplanes, and she was willing to listen to him talk about Ginny for hours without complaining.

And now she was his girlfriend.

"I mean, I know we should have waited longer," Isabelle continued, and Harry struggled to listen to her. "But I just… couldn't. I guess it's like that, if you really want someone."

"Yeah," Harry felt a little angry suddenly, remembering all the times Ginny had made it clear that they wouldn't be having sex anytime soon. It hadn't bothered him, but now he saw exactly what Isabelle meant – Ginny _hadn't_ really wanted him, clearly. She'd really wanted Blaise. He'd just been convenient.

He pulled Isabelle over and kissed her, feeling clumsy and weird. He was naked in his bed, with a naked girl, and they'd just _done it_. He was a grownup now. There was a pause as Isabelle just looked at him. "Harry… this wasn't a one-time thing, was it?" she said softly, looking worried and hurt. "I mean, if you don't want -"

"Of course it's not a one-time thing," Harry felt guilty for how he couldn't stop thinking of Ginny. "We're together." He couldn't bring himself to add _forever_, but that was probably because of what Ginny had done. He was sure he'd start to feel more connected with Isabelle soon. More like he loved her.

What Hermione had said ran through his mind again. All he'd been feeling since Ginny's betrayal was empty. Isabelle made him feel less empty. He sort of loved her, for that.

He kissed her again, bruisingly, and she responded.

* * *

It was night time now. Hermione was awake, but looked sicker than ever. Draco held her hair back as she threw up, covered her in blankets when she trembled, and forced some more of the potion into her. It was when he was trying to coax her to drink some more water that he realised how insane this was.

Draco Malfoy, sick nurse? If it had been anyone else he would have run right out of the room. The idea of Draco Malfoy cleaning up vomit was ridiculous. But he was doing it – for her.

He rocked back on his heels as it hit him. He cared about Hermione Granger. Weak, strong, quiet, loud, kind, bitchy, ugly, beautiful, prudish, sexy Hermione Granger. Who was so screwed up, so busy with her Weasel ex and her unknown inner torment that she didn't even see him. He wasn't looking after her while she was sick because he wanted her to like him – he was doing it because the idea of not looking after her was unthinkable. She needed him, so he was here. She was covered in sweat, wearing one of his old shirts, and she hadn't washed for a while, and he still thought she was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen.

Draco Malfoy was in this too deep. It had happened to quickly and too powerfully to stop. He'd tried to go cold turkey and hadn't even lasted a whole day. Screw that, he hadn't _wanted_ to last a whole day. He just wanted her.

Hermione reached out and grabbed his sleeve as he started to straighten her blanket again. "Don't go," she croaked.

"I won't," he promised soothingly, placing a kiss on her damp forehead.

"Don't go!" Hermione's eyes opened wide, so she was looking straight at him.

Draco frowned. "I told you -"

"I love you!"

For Draco, it felt like the whole world lit up. Time slowed down. Hermione Granger was looking at him, talking to him. She loved him. _She loved him_. He'd been a Death Eater, an attempted murderer, and a discriminatory bastard, and she loved him anyway. That look in her eyes – Draco felt a grin split his face in two. He couldn't help it. He felt like he was glowing. Like he was flying. Like the whole world was this wonderful, amazing place. Because Hermione loved him.

In the split second, plans crashed through his mind. Isabelle would understand about him quitting her little evil plan. His mother – well, she wasn't talking to him anyway, so that was a problem for another day. Who cared what Lucius thought? So long as he had Hermione. Potter might forgive Hermione, if they talked to him together and made it clear that this was real, not just physical. They could even manage to break it to the papers in a way that would make Hermione look good, instead of humiliating her. Purebred society could go fuck themselves, if they disapproved.

He would get to spend more time with her once it was made public. Draco pictured sitting with her at meals, teasing her in classes, more disastrous knitting lessons, and time for the just the two of them to relax and _be_. Draco and Hermione.

Barely a split second had passed for the whole scenario to flash through his mind. Then it was gone, obliterated, by her next words.

"Don't go, Ron," Hermione croaked. "I love you!" She sobbed. In her mind, she was chasing Ron through a forest, but he wasn't there anymore. He'd left her and Harry to finish the quest on their own.

Draco felt like he'd been slapped. Hell, it felt like he'd been stabbed in the heart, actually. His face flushed bright red, with anger and pain. He suddenly understood how people could hit their wives and girlfriends – not that he was planning to, but he got it. This kind of pain could only be dealt by the most important person in your world. He felt like he hated her more than anything else on earth. He felt like his insides were on fire. He felt like he was dying, piece by piece, like someone was Crucio-ing him.

"Hallucinations," he said out loud, his voice a bit cracked. "Right." He got his wand out and pointed at her. For a second he wavered, feeling white hot rage and agony coursing through him, but then he got control again. He levitated her, and headed towards the door, pulling her after him like a balloon on a string.

He would take her to Madame Pomfrey, as she'd ordered him to do when Hermione got sicker.

Draco knew he would never tell anyone what Hermione had said.

Or how much it hurt.

* * *

Astoria left the Ravenclaw dormitories with a slight smirk on her face. She wondered how the boy – whatever his name was – would feel when he woke up and noticed she'd written "Average, 4/10" on his wall in fiery letters. Assuming, of course, that one of his absent roommates didn't get back before he woke up…

It occurred to Astoria that if she was a guy, someone would have beaten her up for her behaviour by now. But then, of course, there was Draco as a male version of her, even if he was less 'cruel' and more 'completely indifferent' to his one-night stands.

It was as if she had summoned him, since as soon as she thought it she nearly tripped over him. He was sitting, his back against the wall, staring at the opposite wall.

"Speak of the devil," Astoria said cheerily, sitting down next to him.

"Yeah," Draco said, and then went silent again. It was a full three minutes before he realised she was expecting him to say something more. "You just had sex, didn't you?"

"And I was thinking you'd lost your psychic sex powers," Astoria kidded. It was an inside joke between them that he always knew when someone had just had sex. "He was very boring, though, so I can see why it took you a moment to pick up on it."

There was nobody around – after all, it was late, and this was the passageway from the other dormitories to the Slytherin one. How many Slytherins spent time at other dormitories, after all? They were generally despised by the other houses.

"Hey," Blaise said, coming to a complete stop. He flushed. "Did you – I mean, do you – are you here because of m-"

"No, we have no idea what you've been up to," Draco said emotionlessly. Astoria cast a curious glance at him – he seemed so out of it. Draco raised his head and stared at Blaise measuringly. "You just had sex, didn't you?"

"NO!" There was a long pause, where Draco just looked at Blaise. Astoria snickered. "All right, maybe."

"The Weaselette really let you do her?" Astoria was amazed. Then she caught Blaise's flushed expression. "Oh, right, someone else. Honestly, Blaise, you're pathetic. Who was she?"

"Carly," Blaise mumbled. "And _you're_ pathetic."

Astoria nearly choked, she was laughing so hard. "So's your face! That Hufflepuff bint? Weasel's girlfriend?"

"Isabelle's going to kill you," Draco commented, pushing Hermione to the back of his head.

Blaise puffed out his chest. "I'm a lone ranger. Isabelle's not my girlfriend."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I didn't mean out of jealousy, you moron. You're screwing with her plan. She's unlikely to be thrilled."

"Blaise is a moron," Astoria said in a singsong voice. She was in a great mood.

Blaise glared at her, but he looked kind of amused too. "So are you. Forget Minion Number One, you're Moron Number One!" For some reason they both felt light and absurd – probably the recent sex.

"I'm not a moron," Astoria protested jokingly, grinning at him from her place on the floor. "I'm a genius. I even have an evil genius laugh. Mwahaha! Why would anyone think _I'm_ a moron? You're a moron."

"So's your face," Blaise said immediately, and suddenly all of them, even Draco were laughing at the ridiculousness of this entire exchange. It wasn't so much that they were laughing at the humour of his comment as they were laughing because all of them had been feeling tense for days, and breaking the tension caused a kind of giddiness to swell in them.

"Great comeback," Draco said, catching his breath. "Really cheered me up."

"That's what friends do," Astoria said in a faux noble voice. "Cheering, commiserating, conglomerating."

"That's not a word, and you're not my friends," Draco retorted, suddenly feeling gloomy again. "I don't have any friends."

"'Course you do," Astoria said. "What about Cr – what about Goyle?"

"Henchman, and anyway, he's gone," Draco leant back against the wall again.

"Isabelle?"

"She's more like a fake sister," Draco said. _A replacement sister_. "Not really a friend, per se."

"Well, we _have _to be your friends," Blaise remarked. He had joined them on the floor. "Who else would cope with a miserable jerk like you?"

"So's your face," Draco said, willing himself to be stupid and pointless for once. It warmed him, oddly, that they considered themselves his friends. He knew they wouldn't have before this year – perhaps they were bonding through being in this situation. Being part of someone else's grand plan. A grand plan that all of them were getting less confident about every day as it seemed to grow more serious.

They continued talking friendly rubbish for a while, but then Blaise turned serious again for a second. "I think the reason Carly slept with me is because she wants information about Isabelle," he said out of the blue. It must have been hours since Isabelle and Blaise had joined him, but Draco found to his surprise he wasn't bored. He was enjoying their easy company. They didn't require him to be intelligent or cutting.

"Unlikely," Draco said. "Planning is higher-level thinking. She's a Hufflepuff. They aren't capable of that. On the other hand, the second possibility is that she found you attractive, so I think you're right about the first one."

"I hope Isabelle doesn't find out," Blaise remarked, adding an exaggerated shiver. Then he brightened again. "but, you know, at least I got laid. Ten points for that."

"Five, maybe," Astoria retorted. "Remember: Hufflepuff. I got a Ravenclaw, that has to be seven. The only ten pointer is -"

"What I got," Isabelle appeared out of the darkness, face slightly smug. "Gryffindor. Though it may be twenty points seeing as he's the Chosen One." She looked slightly annoyed as she surveyed them and realised they were all there.

Astoria laughed and gave a mock curtsey, while Blaise whistled. Draco merely gave three slow claps. "It feels distinctly weird," he drawled, "To be congratulating my adopted sister on scoring. Even if it is a twenty pointer."

"Why are you all sitting here?" Her moment of congratulations over, Isabelle returned to her original thought. "If someone sees you together, it could compromise the plan. Go to bed, or at least separate."

Draco exchanged a glance with the others as they all got to their feet. Astoria looked annoyed, but as always she did what her best friend said; Blaise responded instinctively to being ordered by Isabelle; and Draco suddenly felt a little annoyed with his sister figure. "Oh, right," he said dryly. "The plan. How could we forget?"

Isabelle waited until the others had left, and then faced him. "What's the matter, Draco?"

"We were having fun," Draco said. They'd been taking his mind off Hermione, sick in the hospital wing, and now it was all flooding back. _She loves the Weasel. She _loves _him._

"It's unprofessional," Isabelle replied. She frowned at him.

"Well, we're _not_ professionals," Draco raked a hand through his blonde hair. "We're not soldiers, Isabelle, we're teenagers. I know this plan is important to you – really important, for some reason – but -"

"It _is _important. You'd do the same thing, if it was you," Isabelle interrupted. "Because you're just like me."

Draco just stood there for a moment, staring at her. Suddenly, his voice slightly thicker, he replied. "Maybe I'm not. Not always."

And before Isabelle could ask what he meant, he was gone.

_Boys_, she thought irritably. _Always so emotional.

* * *

_

**Sorry it took me a while. You know how busy holidays can be. I'll try and update more frequently, but I'm not sure if I'll manage. So do you like this chapter?**

**The song refers to both Hermione's illness and Draco's feelings. The verses are also remarkably apt for this story.**


	13. Running Up That Hill

_You don't wanna hurt me,_

_But see how deep the bullet lies._

_Unaware that I'm tearing you asunder._

_There's a thunder in our hearts, baby._

_So much hate for the ones we love_

_Tell me, we both matter, don't we?_

-Placebo

* * *

"Today's the big day," Isabelle said, plunking herself into the armchair next to Draco's. "Your princess is out of the hospital wing, so it's time."

"Time for what?" Draco looked up curiously from his essay. As a matter of fact, he hadn't really been doing any work – he'd been waiting impatiently for ten p.m. That was the time he and Hermione always met, and it was hard to force himself to wait. Draco couldn't shake the feeling that if he could just _see_ her, talk to her, he'd know what to do. At the moment his head was in a whirl – _I want Granger to love me. _It was a thought he'd never expected to think, a feeling he'd never expected to have, and he didn't know what to do anymore.

Part of him wanted to hurt her. Scream at her for loving Weasel. Make her suffer. Oh, not physically, but emotionally. He knew just what to say to make her cry her eyes out – but. Another part didn't want her to be hurt, by anyone, even him. This part wanted to wrap her in a hug and make her feel okay. And then yet another part wanted to run for the hills… Draco, who'd never even realised he had more than one part, was starting to get a headache from it all.

"Time for Potter and Weasley to discover you two in flagrante delicto, of course," Isabelle replied impatiently. She stared at him. "You've been kind of out of it these past few days. You're not getting sick too, are you?"

"No, I just -" Draco subsided as she placed a cool hand on his forehead. "I'm fine, Isabelle, I was just caught up in my work."

"That's a first," quipped Isabelle. "It must be all the enforced monogamy. Cheer up, your time in purgatory is coming to an end. All you have to do is be in the second classroom past the potion rooms with a naked Granger and your part in this is completely finished. I'll arrange the rest."

Draco struggled to think. He hadn't slept at all last night and he felt like he was viewing the world through a thick haze. "Granger won't want to get naked, she only just got better from her bug."

"I have faith in you," Isabelle said, unmoved. She looked confused. "I would have thought you'd be thrilled. You can go back to one-night-stands now."

Draco tried to find a good way to say it and couldn't. "I don't want to."

Isabelle drew back, shocked. "_What_?"

He tried to explain. "Herm – Granger's friends probably won't forgive her for ages if they find out like that. It'll hurt her, and she's already having trouble this year…"

"I'm choosing to believe this is a joke," Isabelle said flatly. "Draco Malfoy does not have a conscience, or at least not one this over-the-top. What, do you want to keep banging her or something? Because your parents will find out eventually, and you know what they'll do."

Draco didn't even flinch. His grey eyes assessed Isabelle evenly. "Is that your attempt at a threat? I can handle my parents."

"Of course it wasn't a threat," Isabelle said, her eyes softening. Her voice turned pleading. "It's just… you said you'd help. All the way, remember?"

Draco remembered his statement. _All the way into hell. _Wasn't that what he'd said? He'd meant it at the time. "I'm not ready to lose her yet," he said finally, and then "I can't lie to her anymore."

Just like that, Isabelle's eyes turned cold and hard again. She stood up. "Right," she mocked him. "Draco wants to be a Gryffindor, that's a new one. You won't _lie_ to her? Does that mean you'll tell her everything? You'll out me, Astoria, Blaise? Does she mean that much to you?"

"She means… something to me," Draco acknowledged. "I'm not sure what, yet. But I won't tell her anything about your little plot, especially since she'd never stay with me if she knew."

"Yes, she'd hate you." Isabelle pursed her lips, then smiled unexpectedly. "Well, if she makes you happy, I won't spoil it for you. Tell you what, let's make a deal."

"A deal with a professional backstabber?" Draco raised an eyebrow haughtily.

"Even better, a deal _between_ two professional backstabbers," Isabelle rummaged in her bag. Here -" as she scratched with her quill on the parchment, Isabelle quoted what she was writing. "Isabelle Mulciber and Draco Malfoy will not reveal or refer to any previous connections or plans between them to any person or persons besides each other, Astoria Greengrass and Blaise Zabini, from this date onwards, as long as both shall live." Isabelle pulled out her wand and pressed it to the middle of the paper. "_Causium Accordio._"

"I've never heard of that spell," Draco remarked. He watched as Isabelle used her wand to sign her name, thereby agreeing to never reveal his past secrets to Hermione. Which was good, because even apart from this current plot Isabelle knew enough about his activities during sixth and seventh year to seriously disconcert him.

Isabelle passed him the parchment. "Oh, it's an old one. Totally harmless." She caught his expression. "Please, Draco, can you just trust me? You're the person I'm closest to! Can't you just – please -"

For a second she looked near tears. Genuine tears, which was very unlike her. Draco grabbed the parchment and signed it, resolving to look up the spell later and check it. He passed it back to her and she turned to leave, still looking upset. As she neared the door, he spoke again. "I'm who you're closest to? What about your father? Aren't you really close to him? I thought -"

Isabelle's face was shadowed by darkness, but Draco thought he could still see a tear on her pale cheek. "Yes. My father. Of course."

* * *

"Where'd you and Zabini sneak off to last night?" Ron said to his girlfriend, a scowl already on his face. "Hell's bells, it's bad enough to have my sister friends with that lizard, you can't make friends with him too."

"I didn't go with him," Carly said, her face blank – well, blanker than usual. "I was talking to friends while you and your sister played that stupid chess game."

"Chess isn't stupid," Ron's scowl intensified.

At that moment Harry opened the door. He froze when he saw Carly. _Oh, great._ "Hey, Carly," he said, and then kept talking over her enthusiastic greetings. "Listen, Ron, mate, could we talk? In private."

"Sure," Ron leapt up and followed Harry out of his room. "Stay there, Carly."

"If she's a small yappy dog, at least you've got her trained," Harry said, managing to keep a straight face. "Sit. Stay. Seriously, why haven't you broken up with her yet?"

"I'm _not _breaking up with her," Ron said mulishly, "At least not anymore. Hermione's moved on, so can I."

"You moved on first." Harry pointed out.

"I can't believe she's dating some idiot," Ron continued, ignoring Harry. "And dressing like a loose woman! Plus, I haven't seen her since Monday."

"She's been in the hospital wing, throwing up," Harry said irritably. "Madame Pomfrey owled me to come keep her company yesterday."

"Why'd she owl you and not me?" Ron said, immediately offended. "We're both Mione's best friends, I should have been owled too! You should have gotten me!"

Harry had wondered if he should owl Ron, until Hermione had gotten briefly worse again. Listening to her call out for Ron, saying she loved him, had been hugely awkward. He could only imagine how awkward it would have been if Ron was right there – and what imaginative curses Hermione would have delivered on Harry for inviting him.

"She's released now, anyway," Harry said hurriedly. He hadn't told Hermione about what she'd said while feverish, and he certainly wasn't going to tell Ron. "But the point is she's not ignoring you. Which isn't what I wanted to talk about."

"What's the matter?"

"I've kind of… gotagifred," Harry spat the words out rapidly.

Ron Weasley, veteran of a thousand conversations with his mouth full, leant his expert ear to this sentence. "Got to go Fred?" he hazarded. Then Ron realised what he'd said – it always took him a moment to remember, _there's no Fred. No Fred ever again. _Both boys winced at the name.

"I've _got a girlfriend_, I said," Harry flushed. "Isabelle. She's really nice, and pretty, and stuff. I wanted you to know. And, and I thought you could tell… people. I don't want… people… to find out suddenly. Like I did." Hermione would have understood straight away, Harry thought sourly. Ron just looked puzzled. "I mean, please tell Ginny, I don't want her to hear it as a rumour," He finally translated.

"Oh! Sure!" Ron frowned. "Aren't you moving on a bit fast?"

"She moved on faster," Harry replied coldly. "Listen, I just wanted you to know. If you don't tell your sister, I'm sure someone else will. Bye."

* * *

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, out of the blue. She and Draco were lying on the bed together fully clothed.

He rolled to face her. "What for?" Draco reached up to lightly touch her face.

"Well," Hermione scrunched up her nose. "We're supposed to be having a mad passionate affair, but instead I spent yesterday throwing up on you and now today I'm too tired to do anything but lie here."

"I like lying here," Draco assured her. "With you." It was dangerously mushy, but Draco felt like saying it anyway. It seemed like he had unlimited opportunities right now – there was no fiendish plan in motion. Sure, Granger still loved Weasley, but Draco was suddenly sure anything was possible. It was possible Hermione would realise that they had more then sex. Possible she'd come to love him instead.

Hermione blushed. "Thanks. I like lying here with you, too." She flopped onto her back again, staring at the ceiling. "Draco, what are we doing?"

"Lying here," Draco said, deadpan. "We may have exhausted this conversation."

"Oh, you know what I mean!" Hermione felt frustrated. "We're – you're risking losing your family, I'm risking losing my friends. And I thought it was for sex but now we keep spending all this time together, and it – it blurs the lines."

"Maybe they're better off blurry," Draco suggested, his voice slightly husky. He pulled her over and kissed her deeply. "Mmm. I like the blurriness. And I've always liked crossing lines."

"I don't like it," Hermione said. "All this risk. I'm so tired, I'm exhausted, and I can't lose my friends as well."

"As well as what?" Draco asked. When there was no reply, he sighed. "There aren't any risks. Your friends aren't going to find out."

"What about your family? Aren't you scared about losing your family?" Hermione rolled so that she could nestle her head against his shoulder. It was odd, seeing Draco like this – sometimes she looked at him and he looked so perfect, sexy and yet so detached that this relationship felt almost unreal. But lately there were moments when she was seeing him as human. His human side. It didn't make him any less attractive – if anything, the slight hint of honest warmth in his silver-grey eyes made him far more handsome – but it did make her emotions riot. Instead of just making her hot, it made her – involved. She didn't want to be involved. Not with him. "Aren't you afraid of losing your family?"

Draco hesitated. "I may have already lost them," he admitted.

"What do you mean?" Hermione sat up to look at him. In the soft light, he thought she looked as fragile as he'd ever seen her. She didn't have Isabelle's new unhealthy thinness, or the Weaselette's recent pallor, but it was all there in her eyes. Hermione Granger was damaged, too.

"You tell me about your family, first," Draco closed his eyes. He heard Hermione suck in her breath. _Gotcha._

"They're both dentists. Teeth-Healers. That's it." Hermione chewed on a strand of hair like she always did when she was nervous. Without looking, Draco pulled it out of her mouth and she glared at him.

A smirk appeared on Draco's face as if he could sense her glare without opening his eyes, but quickly faded. "The truth, Hermione. Your family issues. I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Hermione felt tears collect in her eyes. She had decided at the start of the year not to trouble anyone with what was going on with her parents, but now she felt like she needed to let it all spill out or she'd burst. "My parents hate me," she blurted out. "They're in Australia, and they're never coming back."

* * *

Astoria reminded herself to stop humming as she strode down the corridor. It was always so hard to remember that she wasn't actually allowed to be out of bed at this hour – not least because no one ever patrolled the hallways near the Slytherin dormitories since Professor Slughorn had been promoted to Head of Slytherin House at the start of the previous year.

Astoria was a night-wanderer, much like Draco and the Golden Trio. She was rarely caught, and in fact frequently walked around just for the enjoyment of dodging other people. It was a good test of her stealth and quickness. Even Draco admitted that she was the most skilled student at night-time perambulations in the entire school, not counting Potter who cheated by use of an Invisibility Cloak.

She was, however, surprised when she noted the figures in front of her now. Isabelle and… Ron Weasley? Isabelle had sworn she'd never even met the Weasel except in passing, but here she was leading him by the hand into the nearest classroom.

Astoria darted in after them. "Hello," she purred.

Isabelle turned, a faint smirk on her face. "Oh, hello, I've been meaning to speak to you," she said casually. Turning back to Weasley, she flicked her wand and he rose into the air as if suspended by ropes. "This isn't the perfect time, however."

"What're you doing with _him_?" Astoria said bluntly. It wasn't her preferred form of communication, bluntness, but she was getting to be more direct lately. Probably due to spending too much time with that idiot Blaise – you had to be straight with him or he didn't understand a word you said. Though their fights had, bizarrely, gotten much less serious since the day she'd pushed him up against the wall. Since then they were more like – well, friends.

"We're having a conversation, not that he knows about it," Isabelle smiled up the floating boy. His head hung loose, eyes half-closed. "What important things happened today, Weasel?"

"You've been getting information from him?" Astoria interrupted Ron just as he started to reply. "He's a _spy_?"

"Yes," Isabelle rolled her eyes at Astoria's slowness. "A little bit of Veritaserum, a few memory charms, and I know everything I need to about the Gryffindors. At least, everything they tell this gingery idiot. Which isn't much." Isabelle smiled her thin smile again. "When I told Draco I had a spy reporting on Ron Weasley, and he said Weasel was stupid enough to be his own spy, I could barely keep a straight face. Now, the previous question. Ron Weasley, report."

"Harry stopped by, said he had a new girlfriend. Isabelle. I don't know her really." Ron said, his voice toneless as if he was in a trance. Astoria snorted at the comment. "Expected me to tell Ginny. I told Ginny. She cried. Went to talk to Zabini."

"How does that make you feel?" Isabelle started to circle Ron slowly, playing with her wand.

"Angry. Prefers Zabini to me. Used to prefer Harry to me. Just like Mione does."

"Yes?"

"_He _went to the hospital wing to see her," Now emotions were starting to come through, as Ron's face twisted a bit. "He's hiding something from me. Think he knows who Hermione's seeing."

"Probably," Isabelle admitted, mainly to keep the thought in Ron Weasley's head. "What else? What do you _feel_?"

"Feel angry," he repeated. "Jealous. Always jealous. No one likes me best. 'Cept Carly. She chose _me_, not Chosen One."

Isabelle looked deep in thought. Astoria stayed silent, not wanting to interfere and annoy her older friend. "What would happen if Carly did like Potter better than you?"

Ron's face twisted again. "Hate her. For lying."

Isabelle tapped her wand against the desk distractedly. "Would you hate Harry?"

There was a long pause, as if the semiconscious Ron Weasley were struggling to fit the idea into his head. "No. Can't hate him. Harry."

Isabelle sighed, and flicked her wand at Ron. He jerked awake. "You wandered in here," she said, bored. "I am a shy third year you barely know and didn't mean to disturb. That's all you remember. Leave now." He nodded and was gone. He would be vague and confused-looking when he got back, but since Ron Weasley was frequently confused it was unlikely anyone would comment on it.

"Whew," Astoria remarked. "What was all that 'feelings' crap?"

Isabelle closed her eyes briefly. "It's necessary. For my plan. The parts you don't know." When she reopened them her eyes seemed to burn.

"Oh," Astoria swallowed at the look in Isabelle's eyes. She remembered visiting a crazy uncle once, long ago, who believed that Grindelwald was a god. In his eyes there had been just the same evangelical fire that she saw in Isabelle's whenever she mentioned her plan. The knowledge that there were parts she didn't know about made Astoria, if possible, even more perturbed. She resolved to talk to the others. "Okay. What did you want to talk to me about?"

"The plan for tomorrow," Isabelle frowned. "There was a slight… hiccup… with the plans for Granger to be discovered by her friends today. Instead, the announcement tomorrow will be a surprise for them as well as for Granger. It needs to be very believable."

"The truth generally is," Astoria said shortly, and then both girls laughed in unison at the irony of her statement. "All right, all right, lies are normally more believable. But not this time. People have been looking for dirt on Granger for seven years now. This will be easy."

"Good," Isabelle passed a hand over her forehead, as if tired. "Thank you."

Astoria hesitated, then decided to speak up. "Isabelle – all these memory spells – they're dark magic. You know that, right? You could get in serious trouble. Is dating Potter worth all this?"

Isabelle's expression became unexpectedly benevolent, creeping Astoria out. "_Dear_ Astoria," she said, voice smooth as poisoned honey. "You don't know me very well if you think that's the end of the game. Besides, I won't get caught. I'm _very_ good at memory charms. I used to practise on myself."

"What? What were you trying to forget?" Astoria said, caught off guard.

"I don't remember." Isabelle smiled again at Astoria. Astoria realised that in all the years she'd known Isabelle – since they were little girls who dreamed of pink robes and wanted their future wands to have sparkles – she'd never known her to smile this often. Something had come loose in her friend, something dangerous.

And abruptly, by remembering the past, Astoria knew exactly what her friend had made herself forget. Remembering rumours that she'd nearly forgotten, until now. "You're not supposed to practise memory charms on yourself," she managed to say, her mind whirling with half-recalled details. "You can damage your mind doing that."

Isabelle walked towards the door. As always, leaving as soon as she was bored with the conversation. "Well, clearly I haven't lost any of my intelligence."

"There are worse things to lose then intelligence," Astoria said, not realising this was one of the wisest things she'd ever say. Not that it mattered – Isabelle didn't turn her head or reply, and Astoria couldn't tell if she even heard.

* * *

"Your parents hate you? Why?" Draco hugged Hermione against him.

"I used a spell on them," Hermione sniffled. "I promised I wouldn't ever use magic on them. Then I did. I did. I just – I wanted them to be safe, f-from You-Know-Who, so I made them forget me, and now they _hate_ me, they hate me. They're dentists, they're smart, they just couldn't get over me messing with their brains." To her surprise Hermione realised she was shivering. Draco pulled her even tighter. "They decided to stay in Australia. Keep the names Monica and Wendell. I mean, Monica and Wendell, what kind of _stupid _names are that?" she all of a sudden raged.

"But if you were protecting them," Draco began, but he was interrupted.

"I never told them how dangerous our world was, I only told them the good bits. They didn't believe me when I finally told them how dangerous Voldemort was. They didn't believe me," she finished sadly. "And they're not coming back. I'm so lost. And you know the worst bit?"

"What?"

"When they said they didn't want to ever see me again, I thought, '_who cares'_." Hermione dashed away her tears angrily. "I thought 'Who cares, I practically live with the Weasleys anyway. I'll just go back to them. _They'll _be my family.' And then I went there, and there was Ron, with _her_, and I didn't have _any _family," she let out a sob. "I always had to choose, you know? This holiday at Hogwarts, next one with my parents, next one with the Weasleys – and next year I'll lose Hogwarts and I won't be able to go to any of those places. I don't have anywhere. I can't stand spending all my holidays at Hogwarts, and then next year spending all my Christmases and birthdays and everything in an apartment all by myself!"

Being alone was, in an odd way, Hermione's greatest fear. She'd been ostracised her whole childhood because of her intellect. This fear had been furthered by losing Harry and Ron's company whenever she and Ron disagreed, and then cemented when he left them in the forest and Hermione realised how alone she'd be if she lost Harry as well. She never wanted to be alone again – in a way this fear bothered her more than losing her parents, since she'd been drifting apart from them for years anyway.

"What about Potter?" Draco probed gently. He felt bad, but he could tell it was helping her to talk about it.

"He was so happy, I didn't want to bother him about it," Hermione said, misunderstanding him. "I knew he'd try and fix it, or something, and I don't want to fix it. I just want to forget about it."

"With a diet of sex and wine," Draco commented dryly. "Not that I'm complaining." He kissed the top of her head gently. "But that's not what I meant. Doesn't Potter have a house?"

There was a long, long pause. "I'm an idiot," Hermione said finally.

"Oh, yes," Draco agreed with a smirk.

"Harry has a _house_, he'll let me stay there," Hermione's face split into a grin. "I do have somewhere to go. I can't believe that didn't occur to me. I'm a moron."

"Completely brainless," Draco said blithely. "You'll probably fail your NEWTs. And for the record, I have a house too, if you're free this holidays."

Hermione laughed, taking it as a joke. "Thanks for reminding me about Harry's house. I can't believe I forgot about it – I mean, I guess I'm just used to thinking of it as unsafe and filled with Death Eaters." That comment reminded Hermione of Draco's deal with her. "Why are you fighting with your parents?"

"I'm not, exactly," Draco closed his eyes again, images painted on his eyelids. Blood. Screams. Fear, everywhere, as rank as the half-eaten bodies the Dark Lord had left in their home last year. "My mother's not talking to me. That's all."

"Why?"

"She wanted me to testify for my father, say he was being Imperiused." Draco said shortly. "I refused to. She said it was a betrayal of the family. She's big on family, my mother. All for the family."

"What did your father say?"

Draco rolled over so he wasn't facing her. In his mind he could see Lucius' slight smirk, so like his own. "He said, 'Well done.'" Draco swallowed hard. "'Well done. A real Malfoy will always protect himself above everyone else, even his father.' That's what he said." Draco felt like his chest hurt. All of this was way beyond him - Malfoys were cold, superficial, emotionless. He wasn't supposed to be hurt that his mother was angry with him, or sad that his sister had died exactly ten years ago tomorrow, or angry that the girl he cared about loved someone else. Even free of Isabelle's little game, Draco Malfoy wasn't free of himself. He'd been happy, today, before that little reminder.

Hermione lay silent. She wanted to ask if Lucius Malfoy was right – had Draco refused to testify because he could get in trouble if he was discovered lying? Was he a real Malfoy? But she somehow knew her questions would not be answered, so she just wrapped her arms around Draco from behind and closed her eyes.

She dreamt of Monica and Wendell Wilkes, a childless couple wandering around their empty home where a ghost girl begged them to see her, while dark clouds poured in the open windows.

* * *

**So… yeah… opinions?**

**Also, I think I'm going to set up a poll on my page asking who you want Ginny Weasley to end up with, because at the moment I have no idea which way to go with her. I thought I did at the start, but now - whoosh. Gone.**


	14. Pretty Girl The Way

_Pretty girl is suffering_

_While he confesses everything_

_Pretty soon she'll figure out_

_You can never get him out of your head._

_It's the way_

_That he makes you cry_

_It's the way_

_That he's in your mind_

_It's the way _

_That he makes you fall in love._

-Sugarcult

* * *

Hermione's primary emotion upon waking was guilt and shame. This was hardly unusual – between her guilt over betraying Harry and Ron, and her guilt over telling Harry about Ginny and thereby wrecking their relationship, it was hard to find a time she didn't feel ashamed of herself. However, this time the source was different.

Draco.

He kept taking care of her and making her laugh and kissing her silly – it was like he'd brought her back to life, this year, when she'd felt empty and pointless. With her parents abandoning her, he was like a rock; with her low self esteem, he was a balm; with her boredom at the loss of a challenge he was a thrill. Draco was being everything she needed and Hermione felt guilty that she was giving him so little in return.

_Well, at least I can do something about it_. Hermione moved very slowly and carefully, pulling back the sheets a little as she slid down. Draco was asleep – well, most of him was asleep. Hermione smiled.

The light penetrated through the thin sheets so Hermione could see Draco's chest and stomach. With a gentle finger Hermione drew a line down the triangle of fine hair that fascinated her so much, finally resting her whole hand just above the one awake part of Draco Malfoy.

"…Hermione?"

Hermione heard his sleepy voice above her but chose to ignore it. Letting her head drop down, she started to give Draco an entirely new (and far more pleasurable) type of morning alarm.

* * *

Draco still wore a faint smile from that at breakfast, when he ran into Astoria. "Hello," he said cheerily.

"You're in a good mood," Astoria said. "I'm guessing because of what's happening later today."

Draco froze. "What's happening later today?"

"Oh, er, nothing." Astoria averted her gaze and got up to leave the table but Draco grabbed the edge of her shirt as she tried to go. "Nothing!"

"You're lying," he dragged her closer to him and stood up in the same fluid motion so that he could intimidate her with his height. "Tell me. Now."

Astoria tried to tug away, and he wrenched her even closer. Their faces were barely an inch apart. "Listen, it's nothing bad!"

"Let me decide that," Draco ordered softly. "You can't be talking about something you planned on your own, I know that. You're Isabelle's puppet. What strings is she pulling? Did she tell you I'm out of her little scheme?"

She stopped trying to move away. "Really? Why?"

"Answer my question first." He stared at her mulish face and sighed. "I don't care about Isabelle's plots, provided they don't involve me anymore. What's happening later today?"

"If she didn't tell you, it must be because it's a surprise, and I'm not going to mess that up," Astoria tried to step subtly on his foot but Draco avoided her easily. "I don't think it's anything that will bother you, Draco. I swear. Let me go, everyone's watching!"

Draco scanned the room quickly and caught Hermione's concerned eyes. Potter was talking to her eagerly, his arm around Isabelle, who was also watching Draco. Weasley was three seats down, glaring at his friends. If Hermione was watching, he could hardly continue this without making her suspicious.

Draco released Astoria, who straightened and flounced off, glaring at him. "Sorry," he called after her, the dark amusement in his voice robbing it of all contrition. He watched as Hermione left the room, swinging her heavy bag onto her shoulder, and after a moment's thought stalked after her.

Hermione gasped as she was yanked neatly into an alcove behind a tapestry, a hand covering her mouth. She tried to bite it, but a familiar voice said "Easy, princess. Just me."

She wheeled to glare at him. "What are you doing?"

"You positively _stormed_ out of there," Draco replied easily, lounging against the wall. "I wanted to ask what the matter was. Clearly something's up." He couldn't help wondering if Hermione's annoyance had something to do with whatever was happening later today – did she have some kind of meeting with Potter, Weasel, or Weasel's sister? What did Isabelle have planned that she wouldn't tell Draco?

"_Fine_," Hermione bit out. "What were you doing with that girl?"

Draco couldn't help it. He laughed. "Do you honestly think I was hitting on a girl at breakfast time in the Great Hall?"

"Are you saying you weren't? All that touching and grabbing, and the way she left!"

"Aww," Draco smirked, unable to help it. "You were jealous. That's adorable. 'Mione, if I'd been seducing Astoria, she wouldn't have walked away. The girls I seduce don't get offended."

"You offended me," Hermione pointed out.

"Only briefly," Draco leaned forward, reaching out and placing his hand under her chin. He rubbed his thumb tantalisingly against her bottom lip. "Besides, you're something of a special case."

"I am?" Hermione hated how little-girl-like her voice suddenly sounded. Like she needed to be reassured that she wasn't just another fling. Which was ridiculous, because that should be all she wanted! But it wasn't, not now.

"You are," Draco leaned in and kissed her slowly, before stepping back. When Hermione opened her eyes again, there was no one else there. With an unsteady sigh she pulled back the tapestry and headed to class.

* * *

"I've got a free, too," Isabelle smiled at her boyfriend sweetly. "Maybe we should hang out."

"Sorry," Harry tried to smile back at her but it felt fake and awkward. "I'm meeting Ron and Neville, we're going to finally start on our Charms essay. It's due tomorrow," he added as an excuse.

"Oh, okay," Isabelle brightened her smile, thinking _Well fuck off then. _She found Harry's company boring and slightly saccharine – he was so _optimistic_. He believed in justice and happy endings when the way Isabelle had been brought up made her think they only existed in books. But then, Potter had gotten one, hadn't he? Beat the bad guy and got the girl.

Isabelle felt a moment's regret about how thoroughly she was trashing his happy ending, but squashed it mercilessly. She'd never gotten a happy ending – or anything else happy, really – so why should this banal, stupid boy get one? He'd chosen to throw away the Weasley girl, after all.

She found Astoria waiting for her in her bedroom. "You don't have a free," noted Isabelle disinterestedly. "I suppose this is important, then."

"Why'd Draco back out of the game?" Astoria looked annoyed. "What's going on?"

"He's got… overly fond of the mudblood," Isabelle sat down on her bed, folding her hands in her lap demurely. "He doesn't want to hurt her."

There was a long pause as Astoria thought through the implications of this. "Then he'll hate us for what we're going to do at dinner. They'll break up over it." Astoria lost her cool slightly when Isabelle simply quirked an eyebrow. "Merlin, what's wrong with you? He's our _friend_, we can't do this! If he's in love with Granger – OW!"

Isabelle slammed her friend against the wall, holding her by her shoulders – quite a feat considering their height difference. Astoria shrank back at the expression in Isabelle's eyes. "We _have_ to do this!"

"For the plan?" Astoria shot back. " All for the plan, and who cares if we hurt a friend?"

Isabelle moved even further forwards, and for a split second Astoria thought she was about to kiss her. Instead she rested her forehead on Astoria's shoulder wearily. "No, not for the plan. For Draco. Think about what's going to happen when his parents find out about this." Isabelle spoke so quietly Astoria could barely hear her. She was staring at the floor as if it held all the answers.

"Weren't they going to find out anyway?"

"Oh, they were going to find out Draco had an _affair_ with a mudblood and ditched her, not that there was an actual relationship. They don't care if he screws around with a mudblood, provided he leaves her in the dust," Isabelle took a step back, releasing Astoria. She looked defeated. "_Dating_ a mudblood – they'll disown him for that. Cancel his inheritance. Especially considering it's Granger. Can you imagine?"

"But if he loves her," Astoria understood love, sort of. She never wanted to experience it personally because it would limit her choices, but she did understand it. "If he loves her…"

"I don't know if he does," Isabelle admitted. "But even if he feels that way, she's in love with the Weasel. If they don't break up soon, he'll tell his parents, he'll be disowned and kicked out of society, and then Granger will leave him for her redheaded Gryffindor moron. And she'll say it's because _he_ isn't good enough for _her_." Isabelle reeked contempt and hatred for the Gryffindors. "One of the Golden Trio with an admitted Death Eater? At the end of it, she'll be even more famous as the girl who broke Draco Malfoy. And he'll have nothing."

Astoria tried to imagine Draco broke, lonely and heartbroken. It was impossible to fit the concept into her head, like Professor Sprout in a bikini. Draco was confidence and sex and wealth. Personally, she wouldn't consider love a good enough reason to give up wealth and status – especially if the person you loved was bound to still consider you unacceptable. "You're right."

Isabelle still looked miserable and a little desperate. "I know I am. But you're right too. He might hate us for this, at least for a while."

"In the end he'll thank us," Astoria said firmly, in complete agreement with Isabelle now. "He's not thinking clearly right now, but he knows we care about him."

Her friend let out a strained laugh. "Draco Malfoy is incapable of believing people care about him. He has no self-confidence at all - in his own character," Isabelle amended when Astoria gave her an incredulous look. "He knows people want his body, his money, his status, and his abilities, but it never occurs to him that anyone wants his company. His friendship."

Astoria remembered Draco speaking the other night. _You're not my friends. I don't have any friends. _"You're right. As bizarre as it is, you're right. How do you know him so well?"

"I'm good at reading people," Isabelle said with a shrug. "But the important thing here is – you're going to go through with this, right? You're on my side? I need you."

Isabelle, like Draco and even like Astoria herself, always seemed totally composed and emotionless. Perhaps that was why watching her show emotion had an immediate effect on Astoria. "Of course I'm on your side," she reassured her. "You're my best friend, aren't you?"

* * *

"And so if you cast the Banishing Charm…" Neville muttered, before throwing down his quill with a frown. "Where's Hermione? Essays are so much harder without her. Is she with that guy she's been seeing?"

"She has class," Harry replied, keeping an eye on Ron, who had a tendency to go ballistic at any mention of Hermione's mystery boyfriend. Having heard her passionate declarations of love when she'd been delirious, Harry was inclined to think she was meeting anyone else. "You know Hermione, always has a million things to do. Actually, Neville, where have you been lately?"

"Greenhouses," Neville said with a grin. "I've been dying to tell you guys, but I knew I shouldn't until it was definite – Professor Sprout's retiring and she's training me to take over next year."

"Fantastic!" Ron grinned, finally looking up from his scratching quill. "You deserve it, mate. But don't you want to travel or anything first? It's so early to get a permanent job."

Neville shrugged. "I'll make it up as I go, maybe travel later. I've always known what I wanted," he said simply.

"So have I," Harry said without thinking. Immediately the vision popped into his head, entitled Harry's Future. Ginny's red hair contrasting against a white wedding dress, a small black-haired toddler racing around, a job as an auror, and a tiny cottage in a nice wizarding village. "I want what my parents had." _Exactly what my parents had – I didn't realise how similar it was before. My father even married a girl with red hair…_

Ron rolled his eyes. "You're too stuck on the past, mate. Your parents married right out of Hogwarts, same as mine – how stupid is that? I want to see other countries, and work in the joke shop for a while, and fly professionally for a while, and not get married until I'm in my late twenties at least."

"That's the problem with you two," Neville said dreamily, having apparently returned his concentration to his essay. "You've both got these plans and you act like they're set in stone. It means you miss stuff."

Ron's shocked eyes met Harry's. For a moment they both knew exactly what the other was thinking. Ron had been so busy wanting to sow his wild oats he might have lost the girl he loved, and Harry had been so busy thinking the future was decided that he hadn't noticed Ginny was falling for someone else.

They'd both assumed their girls would do what they expected.

They'd both been wrong.

* * *

Ginny felt like she was sleepwalking through her classes. Earlier she'd tried to smile at an acquaintance of hers only to have the girl snarl "_Slut!_" and heave a dungbomb at her. She'd managed to get away before it went off, but it still upset her. As the weeks went by more and more people seemed to hate her. She'd expected everyone to lose interest but the opposite seemed to be happening.

And now, according to Ron, Harry was dating Isabelle. _Isabelle_ of all people. When Ginny thought of how she had befriended her, _introduced_ her to Harry, _defended_ the Slytherin girl, she felt mad enough to spit.

On top of all that, Blaise seemed to be avoiding her lately. When he saw her he flushed bright red and gave her the same guilty look Charlie used to use when he'd pinched Bill's favourite jacket when they were teens.

So when it came to dinner time, Ginny had absolutely no problem cornering him even though there was an audience of Slytherins. "Blaise," she ground out, grabbing the seat next to him. She'd never sat at the Slytherin table before and it felt strange. When the person across from her moved she flinched visibly, expecting a hex to be thrown at her. Since all but two of the professors were at the staff meeting, it would be less risky to attack someone than normal.

"Steady on," the younger girl said reproachfully, wrinkling her pointed nose. "I'm hardly going to attack you in the Great Hall, you idiot." She looked closer. "Or anywhere, actually – aren't you Ginny Weasley?" She looked thrilled. "Delighted to meet you! I'm Prudence." She grabbed Ginny's hand and wrung it enthusiastically.

"Er… hello?" Ginny looked to Blaise for help.

He coughed into his hand self-deprecatingly. "I didn't mention it to you because I knew you wouldn't like it, but, well, we're both seen as heroes by the Slytherins."

Ginny chose a question at random out of the multitudes whirling in her head. "_Why_?"

"You chose a Slytherin over the Chosen One, the Great Gryffindor, the Dark Lord's destroyer," Prudence said, letting go of Ginny's hand reluctantly. "Just amazing. Dumping Harry Potter for our boy here… well…" Prudence closed her eyes, apparently lost in admiration.

"Um," Ginny said, left completely speechless by the idea of herself as the Slytherin Hero. Then she rallied. "Blaise, could I speak with you? In private?"

"Sure," Blaise grabbed her hand to pull her after him to the end of the table. Ginny flushed bright red at this couple-like behaviour. "What's the matter?"

"I haven't spoke to you for _days_," said Ginny, discomfited. "What's the matter with _you_?"

Blaise blushed, red enough so that it showed even on his dusky skin. "Uh… busy."

"Yeah, right," Ginny said, suddenly angry. "Sure you are."

Blaise stared at her in appreciation. He loved these little moments when she forgot she was Ginny Weasley, Potter's mourning ex and Hogwarts' resident martyr. When she was just Ginny the fiery redhead. Her anger made her eyes brighten, her skin flush, and even seemed to make her hair more lustrous. Beautiful. "What? I've been busy."

"Tell me the truth, why are you avoiding me?" Ginny glared at him.

Hypnotised by her eyes, Blaise suddenly felt like telling her the truth. "I feel guilty. I know I shouldn't, but I do. The other day I slept with someone else and I _know_ we're not together but for some reason I still feel guilty and I'm sorry but I'm not any good at being _friends_ with you when you're so – so -" Blaise ran out of air and had to stop, gasping it down. It was the truth – he felt inexplicably guilty for sleeping with Carly, and it certainly wasn't because she was dating the Weasel. It also wasn't because of those few one-night-stands he'd had with Isabelle a couple of weeks ago, Merlin knew. It was just – Ginny. It was all Ginny.

"So?" Ginny managed to prompt him to continue, shutting her gaping mouth with an audible clack.

"Perfect," Blaise finally said.

Ginny's mouth moved but no words came out. Finally she managed a faint "Oh." She had absolutely no idea how to reply to this. Emotions flickered through her – happiness, jealousy, anger, sadness. She was totally overwhelmed.

A thud made her turn her head, looking up the length of the table. For some unknown reason students were starting to climb up onto the table, standing there. Ginny expected the two professors minding the Great Hall to intercede but one quick look around proved that they weren't there. _Someone's distracted them_, Ginny's hindbrain supplied. She turned back to Blaise. "What's going on? What are _they_ doing?" By now there were nearly thirty students standing up there, all girls.

"No idea," Blaise lied, his eyes trained on Astoria as she grimly pulled herself up.

Draco's eyes were on his food, but as soon as he heard his name he looked up.

"DRACO MALFOY," yelled Pansy Parkinson, her voice apparently helped along by a spell. "I'm here today – _we're_ here today – to tell the truth." She strode to the edge of the table, looking out into the crowd of eating students. "Every girl standing up here has been seduced and discarded by Draco Malfoy."

Unable to help it, Draco snickered. This was honestly too ridiculous – it wasn't as if the whole school didn't know of his reputation anyway. A quick glance at Hermione showed that she was shocked, but didn't look particularly horrified.

Then Draco noticed Astoria as she stepped forward until she was standing beside Pansy. What on earth? There might be girls he had treated badly, but Astoria was most definitely not of their number. "We're here," Astoria announced grimly, "To warn all the girls in this room not to fall for his tactics." She widened her eyes, looking innocent and hurt. "And especially to warn his current, _temporary _lover – _Miss Hermione Granger_."

There were several titters of laughter, which gradually faded away as heads started to turn and stare at Hermione.

At the Gryffindor table, Ron frowned and then laughed shortly. "That's ridiculous," he said, and then paused at Harry's expression. "What?"

Harry turned slowly and awfully to Hermione, who was getting paler by the second. "It's true, isn't it?" Her expression held all the proof he needed. "Fuck."

"Harry," Hermione begged, reaching out a hand to try and stop him as he got up. "Don't – you know I – please -"

Her oldest, closest friend shoved the chair over on his way out, not even looking back. Ron was still too shocked and horrified to react.

Astoria continued. "He's been _bragging_ about her to me ever since last Tuesday, when he slept with me." Astoria faked a convincing sob. "I thought we were _dating_, but he said he'd been screwing her for days before then."

Hermione got up blindly, following Harry. Draco immediately stood up too, needing to find her, _explain_ things to her. Both heard Pansy's last statement as they raced out of there. "Apparently, he even forced her to _dress differently_ just for his own sick, perverted amusement!"

Hermione caught up with Harry straight away, finding him just around the corner braced against a wall. "Harry, I didn't want you to find out like this -"

"You're sleeping with the enemy," Harry said woodenly. "How _could_ you, Hermione? How could you do this to me? To _Ron_?"

"Harry -" Hermione reached out, trying to make him see, but he backed away. "I'm so sorry -"

"And you think that's _good_ enough?" Harry barked out a humourless laugh. "He killed Dumbledore, tried to kill all of us! He was a Death Eater, Hermione, get it through your thick skull -"

"That was in the past, Harry, please!" Hermione hugged her arms around herself, feeling like she was breaking into pieces. "It was just a fling – I didn't mean to – _so sorry _-"

Harry acted like she hadn't even spoken. "You know how I knew it was true, straight away? Because all through when you were sick, you kept saying _Draco_. And I thought," Harry let out another of those dry, horrible laughs. "I thought you were remembering being tortured, having the Cruciatus Curse practised on you while he just watched. At Malfoy Manor. And I felt guilty – I felt _so _guilty because it was my mission, and I said Voldemort's name and that's why they got us, and I couldn't _stand_ the thought that it was still hurting you all this time later! I couldn't _stand_ it! But this is worse than that."

"Harry, I made a mistake," Hermione tried to say, but she already knew it wouldn't work.

Harry snorted. "Yes, you did. You 'made a mistake' and betrayed everything you believe in, everything _I_ believe in!" he said with awful sarcasm. "That's not a bloody mistake! It's betrayal! It's like saying I don't matter to you, not at all – do you remember when he broke my nose, petrified me, and left me helpless and hurt on the train? _Do you_? And what about Ron -"

"Finally recalled my existence, have you?" A loud voice came from the door to the classroom. Ron was like neither of them had ever seen him, his face purple and his eyes shining with hatred. For both of them.

Harry frowned. "Ron?"

Ron ignored him, looking at Hermione. "We both hear this – this horrible _lie_, and you go chasing after _him_? What about me?"

"Ron," Harry said, very softly. "It's true -"

"_Why is he more important to you than I am_? He – he goes to you when you're sick, and studies with you, and knows all your secrets – you'll chase after _him _– he probably knows why they're doing this – lying about you like this – is he the one you're with?" Ron raised his wand, pointing it straight at Harry. It seemed obvious to both Harry and Hermione that Ron wasn't entirely rational right now.

Hermione leapt in, pulling her wand out too. "_Harry?_ You think I'd sleep with _Harry_?" Her voice wobbled, and she struggled to calm it. "It's true, Ron, I'm sorry but it's true. Draco's the one I've been with -"

Ron whitened so dramatically for a second she thought he would faint, and then he pointed his wand at her and opened his mouth.

_BANG._

There was a noise a bit like a gunshot and a flash of white light, and Harry and Ron both fell to the floor. Glass shattered and desks overturned, leaving the room a wreck. Hermione turned, confused, to see Draco standing at the door with his wand up. "Let's get out of here," he said harshly, grabbing her arm and dragging her even as she fought against his grip. "What were you _thinking_, Hermione, not even casting a Shield Charm? He could have done _anything _-"

"Don't call me that," Hermione said thickly. Tears were starting to leak out, and she dashed them away angrily. "We have to go back, I have to explain -"

"If you go back right now the only thing you'll be explaining is how the room got trashed, and you'll be explaining that to a professor," Draco pulled her into the same alcove they'd been in before and cast _Muffliato_ – a useful spell that the whole school seemed to know now.

Hermione raised her wand now slowly, until the point was between his eyes. Anyone else would have gone cross-eyed trying to see it, but Draco just stared into her eyes. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't, you bastard. One reason." Hermione tried to hold back a sob. "_I promise I won't tell anyone_. What a joke, did you laugh when I fell for that one?"

"Hermione -" Draco started to say.

"_Don't call me that!_ You – how could you – I thought -" Hermione let this sob out, unable to stop it. "I thought you said I was special."

"You are," Draco said softly. "Hermione, I swear -"

"I think I know the value of your promises by now!" Hermione looked down through tear-blind eyes at her clothes. "Dressing me up like – like a stupid doll – was this part of your game? See what the mudblood looks like prettied up?" She knew she should go back, talk to Harry and Ron and get them out of there before a professor did turn up, but right now this seemed more important. A part of her was stepping back, handling the facts above all else. The studious part of her.

"I don't care what you wear," Draco looked at her, feeling cold and dead inside. He knew, knew with absolute certainty that they were over now. This was not the kind of thing you could wash away or fix. "You're important to me."

"Right," Hermione stabbed the wand, nearly taking out his eye. "Important enough to be lied to, used, and cheated on?" Her voice had gone quiet, but it seemed to make each word even harder.

"I never cheated on you," Draco said just as quietly, knowing it was useless.

Hermione felt utterly betrayed – ironic, considering she knew she was the biggest traitor out of them all. The amazing Hermione, able to betray all her friends in one single act – two if you counted telling on Ginny. "Really? What were you doing last Tuesday then?"

_Polyjuicing into Blaise to make out with Astoria when she looked like the Weaselette, in order to screw up your friends' lives_. "… Studying." It was a lame excuse, completely unworthy of the great liar Draco Malfoy, but he just couldn't manage a better one with her distressed brown eyes boring into him. "I _didn't_ cheat on you, Hermione, I really didn't!"

"So that just leaves lying to me and using me," Hermione said, sarcasm creeping into her choked voice. "That's good then."

Suddenly, Draco felt angry. It was completely unjust of him to feel this way, he knew, but he couldn't help it. "_You_ lied to and used _me_."

"What?" Hermione was so surprised at the fury in his tone she nearly dropped her wand.

"You heard me! You used me for a distraction, a comfort, a damn _lesson_! For fun! Using each other might have been _my_ idea but _you_ agreed to it!" Draco pulled out his wand again, raising it so it pointed at her chest. He wouldn't use it, of course – probably.

Hermione recovered quickly. "Yes, but you _lied_ to me! You said you wouldn't tell anyone! I _never_ lied to you!"

"Really?" Draco snarled, an ugly smirk coming onto his face as if to contrast his angry words. "Because it seems to me, you're the biggest liar out of everyone I know. Tell me it wasn't a lie when you were under _me_, gasping _my_ name, biting _my _shoulder, and picturing someone else? Lying asleep next to me in bed dreaming of the Weasel?"

Hermione, about to reply just as furiously, caught her breath at the look on his face. It was real pain, real emotion. Strong feelings. Passion. Suddenly all she felt was tired, and utterly wrecked. She thought she understood it now – Draco Malfoy had been unable to believe that anyone could love someone else when they had him, and he'd been hurt by her love for Ron, so he'd reacted by hurting her back.

It was selfish, immature, offensive. He was every bit the Death Eater he'd been two years ago. But he honestly believed he cared about her – he'd mistaken lust for affection. He'd done this to her without thinking. Somewhere, distantly, Hermione could feel sorry for him, for that.

She was wrong about Draco, but it would be some time before she found that out.

"I'm sorry if you felt -" Hermione's voice cracked a little. "_Jealous_, but that's no excuse. You bastard, you complete _bastard_. You've destroyed my life and I _never _want to see you again!"

As always, when he was hurt, Draco retreated into acting snarky and emotionless. "I guess that means you want to see other people?" he said mockingly. Her open-handed slap pushed his head slightly sideways, but he gave no other response. Not pain or even surprise. Draco raised a hand that was shaking slightly to his face, and then let it drop. "I'm sure you used to be stronger," he said, his voice amazingly even considering the turmoil inside him. He could barely think through the maelstrom of emotions. "Maybe our relationship has mellowed you."

When Hermione winced he knew he'd managed to hit home with that comment. If anything, that made him feel worse. "It wasn't a relationship," she said back, her voice barely above a whisper. "It wasn't a relationship, it was a stupid little girl running away to a fake world in a secret room! It was Narnia with expensive wine! It wasn't _real!_" _It was real to me,_ Draco thought, but managed to stop himself from saying. Hermione continued her rant. "Well, I'm through being stupid, and through being a little girl. I'm going to fix things, make it right, act like a grownup … and you can stay the hell away from me, understand? Don't come near me _ever again_!"

She left, and Draco bowed his head, allowing her to have the final word. He owed her that, at least. He felt dizzy and lost and angry.

After a while he became aware of a presence in the room. Without raising his head or opening his eyes, he said "Hello, Isabelle." It had to be her who'd followed them. To his surprise his voice stayed smooth. He sounded good. Normal, even.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. He felt her hands on his cheeks, and then she chastely kissed his forehead. "It was for the best."

"I'm sure you think so," Draco said wearily. He could feel the anger slipping away, even as he tried to keep it to sustain him. All that was left was confusion, exhaustion, and a terrifying emptiness. "Leave me alone, Isabelle. Please. Just leave me alone. Just go away. Please."

And she did.

* * *

**Sorry about the time between updates, but this was a hard chapter to write. Please review and let me know what you think.**

**Poor Draco. :(**


	15. Try

_Where there is a desire there's gonna be a flame_

_Where there is a flame someone's bound to get burned._

-Go North To Go South

* * *

On Friday morning, the first thing Hermione Granger did was seek out the Headmistress and inform her that, sorry, she still felt sick from her illness and didn't think she could handle today's classes or Head Girl's patrols over the weekend. A sleepless night meant that her pale face and bruised-looking eyes made her claim very convincing. What she really wanted to avoid was people, of course – all of them. Hermione somehow managed to avoid all contact with other people on the way back to her room, where she began the second item on her to-do list.

The first target was an elegant sea-green cloak. When she'd tried it on at Phil's place, Draco had grabbed the edge of it and stroked it against her cheek. "Soft," he'd said with a wicked smile, "Isn't it?"

It had indeed been soft and silky, but Hermione just glared at him. "I don't want a Slytherin coloured cloak!" she snapped, more to annoy him than any other reason. "I don't care how soft it is."

"Who said I was talking about the cloak?" he'd riposted, now rubbing his thumb against her cheek. She'd flushed and he'd laughed, while Phil rolled his eyes at them. It had gone in the keep pile, against Hermione's express wishes, but she'd been glad they'd ignored her. It was a beautiful thing and Hermione had a weakness for beautiful things.

Like Draco.

"_Diffindo_," she whispered, and slashed at it with her wand. In less than a minute, the cloak was a mass of handkerchief-sized shreds. Hermione gathered them together with a trembling hand and levitated them before setting them on fire.

The floating sphere of flame was also beautiful, but it was transient – in seconds there were only ashes. She'd never even worn it. But then, Draco had only bought these for her last weekend, so she'd never worn most of her new clothes. And now she never would.

Two skirts and three tops followed in this manner, haphazardly pulled out and destroyed. When she reached into her wardrobe and pulled out the next thing, though, she faltered. It was a light pink, floaty dress – the one that had made Draco's eyes light up. He'd even gotten a slight flush to his cheeks, she recalled.

As if she was in a trance, Hermione pulled the dress on. She even pulled out the matching shoes, and brushed her hair. In the mirror was another girl – Draco Malfoy's girlfriend. _"You're important to me." _Liar.

"_See what the mudblood looks like prettied up?"_

"_I don't care what you wear."_

The sentence kept repeating in her mind, fracturing and changing – "_You're important to me. You're important to you're important you're important. To me."_ And that one thought, again and again, _LIAR. _He'd lied and she hadn't known. Where was Hermione the genius now?

Dry-eyed, Hermione wrenched off the dress, and grabbed her wand again, pointing it at it. "_Diffindo!_" she yelled, and the dress ripped in half. She stared at it. Suddenly Hermione imagined herself going to the interview wearing her normal clothes. Going out and walking the corridors in her normal clothes. Wouldn't that prove to everyone that Draco had been the reason she started to care about her appearance? Would they laugh at her?

Would _Draco_ laugh at her, in her normal clothes? He'd think she was seriously affected by what he'd done. He'd realise she actually cared. Plus, his expression when he'd seen this dress the first time – Hermione realized she wanted to see that again. She wanted Draco Malfoy to know what he'd lost through his careless, cruel betrayal.

"Reparo," Hermione watched as the dress stitched itself back together quickly. Reaching a hand up to her face, she discovered it was wet. And so, allowing herself to gather up the dress into her arms and starting to cry for real, Hermione began the long and painful process of letting Draco Malfoy go.

* * *

Hermione's immediate response to their harsh break-up had been excessive emotion, but Draco went exactly the opposite way. Anyone witnessing him would have thought he had no emotions at all when he walked into the Slytherin Common Room.

"Get out," he said, with a lazy sort of ruthlessness, gesturing at the dozen people sitting around the fire. "I want to talk to my _friends _Blaise, Astoria and _dear_ Isabelle in here." The Slytherins exchanged uncomfortable looks. Draco casually lifted his arm so that his sleeve fell to reveal the scar from his Dark Mark. "I said, _get out_. Fetch the people I want to talk to and then don't return for an hour at least. _Understood?_" His laser stare swept the room and people scattered.

Astoria was the first to arrive, gliding in. "Draco -" she began.

"Quiet," Draco said. Dressed all in black, his eyes molten silver and his expression pure steel, at the moment Draco Malfoy looked like he could destroy the world with a word. Astoria shut up.

Blaise and Isabelle arrived less than three minutes later. Astoria already felt distinctly uneasy – Draco hadn't moved or spoken since she got here except to order her silence, like a terrifying statue. She couldn't shake the feeling that she and Isabelle had gone too far. Even Isabelle checked herself a little when she saw him.

"Draco, you assured me that you understood it was for the best -" Isabelle attempted to put on a motherly air which didn't suit her at all.

"No," Draco's cool voice cut effortlessly through her protestation. "I understood that you believed yourself, for whatever reason, to be helping me. I understand perfectly. _However_, you have no right to attempt to make my decisions for me." He stared at each of them in turn, for an uncomfortable amount of time. Blaise shifted uneasily.

"I didn't know anything about -" he started to say, but was silenced by a gesture.

"I can readily believe you don't know anything," Draco said cruelly. "I am a Malfoy. Malfoys are leaders, rulers, bosses. The only person a Malfoy has ever worked under is Voldemort, and you may have noticed my entire family has outlived him twice. I broke that rule by agreeing to work for you, Isabelle. I shouldn't have." He took a breath, none of the others daring to interrupt him. "I'm not going to ask why you thought it was a good idea to attempt to _control_ me – _me_, of all people – but this is the point where it stops. If I hadn't been so distracted you wouldn't have gotten as far as you did. You think you can control me? You think you can beat me? Well, game on."

Isabelle nodded, trying to look calm. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"I've left Team Slytherin," Draco smirked at them. "At first I was willing to help with your scheme, since it was enjoyable. Then I was willing to tolerate it because it didn't affect me. Now, you've made it affect me, and I'm going to destroy it."

"You can't tell people about it," Isabelle said, hiding a slight quaver to her voice. She'd stood up too, and now Draco and she were unconsciously circling each other. "That was in the parchment you signed. The spell will stop you talking."

"I don't need to talk," Draco's eyes bore into Isabelle. Astoria found herself huddling into Blaise, who looked like he was trying to hide his fear. Outwardly, this seemed to be just two old friends circling each other and trading jibes but it _felt_ like it was more. "That would be like winning a game of chess by grabbing the opposing king and snapping it in half. All I need to do is play the game. And I _will win_."

"So you're Team Gryffindor now?" Isabelle taunted him.

"I'm Team Draco," he responded. "I have no intention of Potter ending up on top, or you ending up on top. I'll be satisfied with screwing everyone over."

"Except Hermione Granger," Isabelle guessed.

"I owe her that much," Draco looked sad and angry for a second, before turning emotionless again. "But you – every plan you make, I'll break. Every little scheme will backfire. You will regret that you started this, Isabelle. That's a promise."

Much to Astoria and Blaise's surprise, Isabelle smiled. "I'll hold you to that. May the best player win." She reached out a hand and he clasped it for a second, before letting go. "Friends and enemies at once. Does that mean I'm still your fake sister?"

Draco actually laughed. " We're opponents, Isabelle. Rivals. Enemies. Try and be a worthwhile one."

"I'll do my best," Isabelle said quietly as Draco left the room. She raised her voice so he could hear her final word, "Brother." When she turned she found Blaise and Astoria staring at her. "What?"

"There's something wrong with you two," Astoria said after a moment. "I can't even tell what you are anymore. I can't even tell what _we_ are anymore. I wish I hadn't agreed to this."

"Astoria -" Isabelle began, but her friend had already left the room. She turned to Blaise. "Opinions, Zabini?"

"You're a total bitch," Blaise said bluntly, and followed Astoria out of the room.

* * *

"I can't believe she would _do_ something like this!" Ron Weasley raged, throwing yet another book against the wall. "And Harry _knew_!"

Carly lay back on the bed with a sigh. This wasn't exactly wonderful pillow talk, if pillow talk it could be called – after all, they _still_ hadn't slept together. It was starting to annoy her. Though, not nearly as much as Ron's obsession with the bookworm was.

"She's a slut," Carly said sharply.

"No she isn't!" Ron abruptly switched sides to defend his Hermione. "She just made a mistake!"

"She went after Harry to talk to him," Carly deliberately touched a sore spot. "Didn't _care_ enough to talk to you about it."

"She's been ignoring me for _ages_!" Ron stomped around the room yet again, his face red. "Spending all her time with Harry – _and_ Ferret-face! Screwing Ferret-face! She's a – a – a scarlet woman!"

"She's probably sleeping with them both," Carly said thoughtfully. She didn't believe that at all, even a little bit, but clearly the only amusement she was going to get here was watching her boyfriend's face turn purple. "Why else would he be so angry about it?"

"She wouldn't," Ron came to a complete stop next to the bed, wringing his hands. "She's _mine_ not Harry's!"

It was interesting, Carly thought. The person Ron hated most in the world had slept with the girl he clearly had feelings for, but his jealousy issues with Harry Potter were still stopping him from focussing completely on that. He had serious problems. "Of course she wants him," Carly said, faux soothingly. "He's Harry Potter, after all, the Chosen One. Who wouldn't prefer him?" She ran over what she'd just said as Ron stared at her. "Except me, of course, my little Dalmatian," she hurriedly lied.

Personally, she was just waiting for the right moment. Harry Potter would absolutely be hers. She hadn't planned for it at the start, but then when Ron's stupid sister and stupidly left him single and available, she'd changed her plans. Why date the side-kick when you can have the hero? This whole dating-Isabelle-Mulciber thing had briefly given her pause, but then she'd decided it couldn't be serious. She was _so_ much better looking than Mulciber. And Ginny Weasley. And Hermione Granger – after all, who had brown hair anymore? And pale skin! How ugly.

"Right," Ron sounded a little put off, then he got back to the subject at hand. "Hermione and Harry wouldn't – _no_! She wouldn't!"

"She slept with Draco Malfoy," Carly examined her nails, bored with this. Bored with him, her second-rate claim to fame. "If she'd do that, she'd do anything."

* * *

Ginny Weasley was being kissed by Blaise Zabini. Oddly enough, the thought that was going through her head was that he tasted nothing at all like Harry. And that she shouldn't be doing this here, right next to the Gryffindor rooms, where he could get the wrong idea. He'd come up to see her and then this just –

"Hey -" A girl came unexpectedly out of the nearest room, and Ginny broke off the kiss, flushing bright red – not an attractive look on redheads. She looked up and saw it was Hermione, standing there, also blushing.

"What are you looking at?" Ginny snapped. "After all, apparently _you_ have no problem _sleeping_ with Slytherins, so there shouldn't be a problem with me kissing them!" Blaise touched Ginny's shoulder, but at a look from her decided it was time to take off.

Hermione went an even darker red. Ginny thought she detected shame. "I'm sorry," she finally muttered.

"Sorry for interrupting me? Or sorry for breaking up my relationship?" Ginny heard her voice crack, and cleared her throat to try and cover her emotions. "Sorry for lying to Harry about me kissing Blaise when all the time you were with Malfoy?"

Hermione looked up, meeting her ex-friend's eyes. _I said I'd try and make it right, so… time to try and apologise. _"Sorry for all of it. For all of it. God, Ginny, I'm so sorry."

"You think sorry can, can just _fix_ this? This is unfixable, Hermione!" Ginny's anger made Hermione flinch, but she rallied.

"…I don't think it's unfixable. I do think it's unforgivable. I'm sorry for wasting your time. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry you're broken, and sorry I helped break you. And I didn't use to believe this, but now I think however you decide to put yourself together is okay, after we broke you. Even if it means betraying who you used to be… because you can't betray her a tenth as much as the rest of us betrayed her. So go ahead, kiss whoever you want to. You don't need my permission. I'm sorry, Ginny. I know that means less than nothing now, but I'm truly sorry." Hermione took a deep breath.

"You _lied_," Ginny tried to make her understand. "I still don't even know why you told Harry you saw me and Blaise kissing, since if you were with Malfoy clearly you didn't want Harry."

"I didn't lie, it's what I saw," Hermione whispered. At Ginny's glare, she raised her voice. "I'm serious, Ginny! I have no reason to lie about it! I _saw_ you kiss Blaise! That's why I told Harry."

"I have no reason to lie about it anymore, either! It's not like it would matter if it was true, at this point, but it's not. I never kissed Blaise until today!" Ginny practically yelled back. "That was our first kiss! Ever!"

There was a long pause, as Hermione started to think hard. "Someone's messing with us," she concluded. "Somebody _used_ me to break you two up. They must have slipped me a potion so I hallucinated it… or somebody used Polyjuice to look like you and then kissed Blaise."

"No, Blaise was with me, he wouldn't have been out there kissing someone," Ginny said stubbornly. "Besides, he would have told me."

"Two people using Polyjuice, then," Hermione looked up at Ginny, meeting her eyes for the first time. "I'm not using this as an excuse for what I did. I forgot that you were my friend, that you were a good person. I was too worried about what _I_ should do to realise you'd never hurt Harry that way."

"If Harry believed it so easily, it's his fault too," Ginny said hotly. "He doesn't deserve to be forgiven any more than you do! And what he did with that Slytherin girl… both Slytherin girls…" Suddenly Ginny faltered at the look in Hermione's eyes. It was a look of discovery.

"Slytherin girls," Hermione echoed. "Is it just me or are there a lot of Slytherins in this?" She paused. "We can't talk out here. Come into my room."

"We aren't friends," Ginny warned, but she followed her anyway.

* * *

Draco was working in the potions room, but only half his mind was on the Transmogrifying-Hiccups Potion he was mixing for extra credit. The other half was on how to start his own plans.

Isabelle needed to be taken down a peg. She had manipulated him, and he'd allowed it because he was fond of her – forgetting that Slytherins, even when friends, were allowed to sneak and lie and backstab. He himself would never have had a flicker of doubt about betraying Crabbe or Goyle, and certainly when Crabbe had gotten the upper hand for a brief while he'd shown no loyalty at all. He should have expected Isabelle's betrayal – they weren't _Gryffindors,_ after all.

The trick was finding a way to screw over Isabelle so that she didn't get what she wanted (Potter) without screwing her over so badly she was found out and kicked out of school. Besides anything else, he, Blaise and Astoria would probably be expelled along with her, and Draco had too much fun at Hogwarts to want to leave just yet. Along the way he also wanted Hermione's friends to forgive her – or preferably crawl back on bended knee. Draco also wanted Hermione back, but he didn't know how to do that quite yet. More seduction, maybe? It worked the first time, but on the other hand he didn't want to manipulate her into something again. He wanted her to want to be with him. To care about him.

The first step to stopping Isabelle was finding out how far her plans went. How many people were in on it. There were Blaise and Isabelle, but Draco knew there must be more he didn't know about. Maybe people who knew more about her scheme. Not knowing what she was up to put Draco in a defensive position, waiting to see what she would do. He didn't like that.

As he started chopping up the fungus, Draco let his mind drift. Isabelle had wanted him to date and dump Hermione, ruining her credibility and reputation, as well as causing her friends to hate her. That had been achieved, if today's _Daily Prophet_ article had been anything to go by. Such a _simple_ plan, really. Her plan for the Weaselette had been equally simple. Nearly identical, even - he wondered if she realised how predictable that was.

It was her plans for the other two that seemed complex and confusing.

Try as he might, Draco couldn't figure out what Isabelle's plan for Potter could be. She couldn't break up with him or say anything bad about him, because she would come off worse in the papers. It was _her_ reputation that would be damaged, not Potter's, by anything she did. He was the Chosen One after all.

_The spy on Weasley_. Draco froze in the act of stirring the potion, and had to force himself to start again. Perhaps the spy knew something that Draco didn't know yet. Who could it be? They'd known what the Weasel got up to in the early hours of the morning in his own bed, Draco recalled. Someone who roomed near him? A Gryffindor? Isabelle had said he was a Gryffindor, but she could have been lying. What else had she said?

All she'd done was laugh. At something he'd said. _"You could probably talk to Weasel and he'd tell you everything you want to know…"_

Of course. Dammit. The spy _was_ Weasley, either on truth potion or just stupid enough to spill his guts to Isabelle. That would be no help, Weasley wouldn't have a clue about Isabelle's plans.

Since Draco knew he couldn't persuade any of the targets to make up and be friends again – not that he really _wanted_ to, but that would annoy Isabelle and make Hermione happy – that left him only one avenue to go down.

Breaking up either Isabelle and Potter, or Zabini and the Weaselette.

He had ideas for both.

* * *

"We're going to need to pick a side," Blaise commented, thinking about his recent kiss with Ginny. He'd started it – he could still recall her faint gasp – but she certainly hadn't pushed him away. It was a step. "Isabelle or Draco."

"I would have thought that would be obvious for you," Astoria replied, outlining her mouth with scarlet lipstick and making a pout. "You hate Draco, but of course, you don't really like Isabelle at all, either, anymore. I would have thought you'd choose Draco, what with how strange Isabelle's been lately."

"Yes, but I doubt Draco's plan involves Ginny and I ending up together," Blaise leant awkwardly against the door. "I _know_ Isabelle wants us together. And I'm making progress."

"Are you sure Isabelle wants you with the Weasley girl? If she's said it once, she's said it a million times -"

He said it with her. "'Slytherins don't get happy endings'. Yes, all right, but she arranged it so I could get Ginny. If Malfoy tells everyone about how Ginny cheating was faked, she'll go back to Potter."

Astoria shrugged, grabbing a hair decoration. "Malfoy won't tell anyone. You heard Isabelle, he signed her agreement. He _can't_ talk even if he wants to. Plus, going to the professors isn't Draco's style at all." Astoria paused for a second, letting her hands fall from her hair with a sigh and finally turning to face him. "I don't know what side I'm on, either. Isabelle's my best friend, but to be honest she seems to be losing it a bit. It was scary this morning. I'm tempted to just say screw the whole thing and avoid them both."

"Bullshit, you aren't tempted to do that at all," Blaise accused. "You live for this stuff."

"It _is_ thrilling," Astoria allowed. "I guess I have to see it through to the end."

Blaise thought about Ginny's face. Her lips, her scent. "I guess I do, too."

* * *

"So." Hermione took a step back and surveyed the parchment on the wall. It had the name Draco Malfoy, with an arrow to Hermione's own name, and then Astoria's and Isabelle's with an arrow to Harry. "Dra – _Malfoy_ goes after me, that's obvious. But I don't understand the point of the other two. Perhaps Isabelle isn't -"

"No, she's in on it, whatever _it _is," Ginny said grimly. "Has to be."

"Why does she have to be?" Hermione nibbled on the quill. "She's the only one who got involved with our group by accident, right? Malfoy came up to me, Astoria went after Harry, and Blaise -"

"Blaise is _not_ involved with this," Ginny glared at Hermione. "He's a good person."

"Right. Okay," Hermione went back to studying the very simple chart. Something occurred to her. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Free period," Ginny lied without any guilt at all.

"They call them 'study periods' for a reason, Ginny," Hermione said in exasperation. It was such a familiar conversation – Ginny had heard her have it multiple times with Harry and Ron, and Hermione had said it to her a fair few times as well – that they both paused to laugh. Then Ginny stiffened again as she remembered they weren't friends. Hermione had betrayed her.

_She did apologise, though..._

"Why would Astoria and Isabelle _both_ go for Harry?" Hermione said thoughtfully. "I mean, if Isabelle's in love with him – sorry Ginny – then she wouldn't be working with Astoria. It makes no sense."

"None of this makes sense," Ginny said stoutly. "Maybe you're paranoid."

"Maybe," Hermione acknowledged. "Maybe I'm so bored without You-Know-Who to fight that I'm seeing enemies where there aren't any. But on the other hand… there are a _lot_ of Slytherins in our life, suddenly, acting like our best friends. And _somebody_ faked the kiss between you and Zabini."

"True," Ginny stared at the parchment. She wasn't a genius like Hermione, so she doubted she'd see anything her friend – _ex-friend, remember_ – had missed. "Maybe Malfoy's in charge. It's the kind of thing he'd do, isn't it?"

"Malfoy is a bastard," Hermione agreed woodenly, and Ginny felt a flash of sympathy at the pain in her face. "But I don't know. I don't think he'd…" She broke off, looking automatically at her mirror. Ginny saw, with a slight pang, that there was a Slytherin tie draped over it.

"You know last year," Ginny said slowly.

"No, I'd completely forgotten it, Ginny, why do you ask?" Hermione snapped, clearly embarrassed at having been so obvious in her feelings.

"Malfoy hid me once, from the Carrows, in the Slytherin dormitory," Ginny said it straight out. "I asked why, and he said he didn't like them. 'Low-class', I think those were his exact words."

Hermione gave a funny little laugh that was half a sob. "Yes, that sounds like him. What did you say?"

"I said…" Ginny remembered. "I said I thought he could be a decent person, if he tried a bit harder and pulled the broomstick out of his arse." She smiled, unexpectedly. "And then he said lots of men have been redeemed by pretty girls, if I wanted to give that a try, and that his room was an excellent place to hide. I yelled at him, of course, said how loyal I was to Harry, that I'd never cheat on him. I got the feeling that Malfoy wasn't very serious about the offer, though."

"He probably was," Hermione disagreed.

"No, because he just sort of shrugged and went back to writing his essay," Ginny smiled again. She'd never mentioned that strange night to anyone before. It had, strangely, been one of the reasons she was willing to give Isabelle and Blaise a chance – after all, if Draco Malfoy could do something decent, anyone could. "I fell asleep on an armchair and when I woke up he'd covered me in his cloak like it was a blanket. And every time I saw him after that, for the rest of the year, he said something really nasty to me. Normally about my family." It hadn't taken long for Ginny to disregard the kind act as just another Malfoy game, what with that kind of treatment.

"That sounds like him," Hermione said again, a little more viciously this time. "All right, so let's say Draco's in charge. Working with Isabelle or Astoria."

"Isabelle," said Ginny immediately. "I hate her. Plus, after yesterday, he wouldn't be working with Astoria, he'd be furious with her."

"Why?" Hermione searched her memory. "I don't think I've ever met Astoria. Which one is she?"

"The one who stood on the table with Pansy, and claimed Malfoy cheated on her with you," Ginny said bluntly, feeling a little guilty as Hermione flinched again, but quickly squashing it. "I saw his expression. He _hated_ her for that."

"Aaargh," Hermione threw the quill down. "This makes no sense. How about… Draco starts to chase me and Astoria splits up you and Harry. They could have pulled off the fake kiss. Why, though? Astoria wanted Harry? She failed, then. Besides, why would I need to be involved in that?"

"I still think it's Isabelle. She got Harry, after all." Ginny tried and failed to hide her own pain at that thought.

"Yes, but then she'd have to be working with Astoria as well! Otherwise this makes no sense! And why would she work with someone else who wanted Harry, when she wanted him? And what's Astoria's motivation? We're getting nowhere. I think it's time to give up."

"Fine," Ginny stood up straight away. "Bye." She made to leave.

"Listen," Hermione said tentatively. "Ginny… if there's anything I can do…"

Ginny swung around to glower at her, her emotions suddenly bursting out again. "You had your chance. You chose Harry over me. I haven't even _seen_ you since we broke up! You didn't even care enough to see if I was okay!" Ginny looked close to tears.

"I… Ginny, I didn't think you'd want to see me…" Hermione said lamely, looking shocked at Ginny's open emotion.

"Of course I didn't! But if you'd _cared_ – no one but Blaise even talks to me anymore! Ron's busy, and Luna's busy, Neville's busy, you're all too busy to have time for me now that I'm not Harry's girlfriend! All of you! Because I'm just stupid little Ginny Weasley now! I'm not _important_!" Ginny let out a little sob.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, starting to sob too, even as Ginny began to regain control. "I'm so sorry for everything. It's all my fault… I know you hate me… I'm so sorry…" Hermione started to back away, closing her door behind her.

Acting entirely on instinct, Ginny stuck her foot in the door. "Don't be such a martyr, Hermione," she said in an unsteady voice. "Let me in."

Hermione looked at her, stunned. "You mean… you forgive me?"

"I can never forgive you," Ginny said, pushing her way into Hermione's room and hoping she was doing the right thing. With a mischievous - if watery - grin, she added, "I mean, for not telling me _everything_ about how Draco Malfoy is in bed. Really. _Every_ detail. So, tell me now. Because that's what girlfriends do." She pulled Hermione down so they were sitting next to each other on the bed.

Hermione let out a little wet chuckle, and put her arms around her best friend. And somehow, by that mysterious magic that only exists around girls who are close friends, everything was forgiven.

* * *

**So, yeah, Ginny forgave Hermione quickly. But I thought Hermione kind of deserved a break, and Ginny deserved another friend. I know, lacking Dramione here, but don't worry, they'll be getting lots of scenes together soon.**

**Opinions?**


	16. Find A Way

_Hold on, __I'll be here when it's _

_All done, you know._

_Cause what's the point in chasing_

_If I can't enjoy your face and_

_We can't be wrong tonight_

_Can we be wrong tonight?_

_You know I'm gonna find a way_

_To let you have your way with me_

_You know I'm gonna find a way_

_To catch your hand and make you stay._

_- _Safetysuit

* * *

Hermione woke up on Saturday morning with a pain in her neck and the feeling of a warm body beside hers. _Draco_, she thought dreamily, keeping her eyes closed as she rolled over to embrace him. Then her eyes popped wide open as she realised that the slender, feminine body beside her definitely wasn't Draco Malfoy's.

_Ginny_. She vaguely remembered them talking and gossipping and confiding each other, hour after hour, until Ginny had fallen asleep. Then Hermione must have followed suit. Still, judging by the view out the window, she couldn't have gotten more than a few hours of sleep – the sun had been rising when she'd closed the curtains, and now from what she could see it was still barely up. Probably a good idea to leave Ginny to sleep, then. Hermione pulled away, disentangling herself from the blankets. She was still wearing yesterday's clothes, but who cared? It was the weekend, and she could always do a cleansing charm on it.

Hermione wasn't actually very surprised to find Draco waiting for her outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was thankfully away from her portrait, but she felt the need to comment anyway. "Been there all night?" she said acidly.

Draco straightened, smiling at her in his ineffable way. "I gave you yesterday to yourself. Now, I think, it's time for us to talk."

"Only _you_ would try and act like this isn't your fault," Hermione hissed. "Leave me alone."

"It's my fault," Draco admitted. "I screwed up. I confided in the wrong person, I should have kept my promise. My bad." The devilish look returned to his eyes. "Want to punish me?"

Hermione threw a glare his way, and turned to stomp away, but he grabbed her wrist and yanked her around. "Do you enjoy manhandling women?" she snarled.

"Double standards much?" Draco drawled in response. "You've slapped me more than once. I'm not even holding you tightly enough to leave a red mark." He released her, and she peered at her wrist. Dammit, he was right, the skin wasn't even reddened.

"Everything's a joke with you, isn't it?" Hermione said, incensed. "This whole thing. Us. Me."

Draco winced. "I'm sorry. I get sarcastic and mocking when I'm nervous. You've never been a joke to me, Hermione."

Hermione opened her mouth to say he wasn't allowed to call her that, but then rethought it – it wasn't as if he would listen. Instead she said, "Oh, don't pretend to be serious. It isn't your style. And go away, someone might see us here – your _girlfriend_ Astoria might see us."

"I find it hard to believe you care about Astoria's feelings. To be honest, I don't give a damn about them either. She's a girl, and she's occasionally a friend, but she's never been my girlfriend." Draco hesitated, searching for the right words. "I swear on my lineage, I never cheated on you, Hermione."

"Lineage, so important to you purebloods," Hermione said, her tone scathing. "Completely irrelevant to me, of course, considering I'm a mudblood. Below your class – do you expect me to believe you _ever_ cared about me?"

"You know I did," Draco said, looking oddly hurt. "And you must feel it – what we have – it's still there." He caught her hand again and drew it up. She braced herself for a kiss, or for him to suck her finger, or something else overtly sexual, but instead he just pulled it to his chest, holding it flat over his heart so she could feel the steady heartbeat. For some reason, it affected Hermione deeply, bringing tears to her eyes, just to feel it quicken as he looked at her. "I care about you. I want you. And I screwed up – completely – but I want to make it right. Tell me how to make it right. _Please_."

His eyes caught her in their silver glow, just as they always did. Hermione tried to speak but couldn't find the words, and felt helpless as warmth pooled inside her, moving lower with every second he stared at her with _those eyes_. Then his gaze shifted to her lips and she knew exactly what he was going to do before he did it. "No -"

Her protest wasn't too late, it was just disregarded. Slowly, erotically, he invaded her mouth. The heat was there, as intense and undeniable as it had been from their first kiss, and Hermione gave in to it. She had no choice, he held her tightly until her mental and physical struggles had both stopped. Then he held her, conquered, continuing their illicit embrace. It was the gentleness that annoyed her, making her feel things she didn't want to – the emotional rather than physical pleasure that Hermione refused to admit to. She tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging him roughly against her, _wanting _the roughness, and the kiss turned heated.

Desire flooded her veins. However long it had been since they had done this, it was too long. When he bit at her lower lip Hermione jerked in his arms, prompting a low chuckle as he started to kiss his way down her neck.

SLAM.

"Sorry," Ginny said curtly. Hermione shot her a look of gratitude. At the sound of the portrait slamming, she'd come back to herself and managed to leap away from Draco. "I woke up and you weren't there, 'Mione, and I didn't want to stay in your room without you."

"In your _room_?" Draco echoed, giving Hermione a smirk that the devil would have been ashamed to wear. It was clear from his raised eyebrow that interesting images were dancing through his head.

Hermione flushed. "It's not what you're thinking, Malfoy," she snapped, and then collected herself. "…Not that I care what you're thinking. I don't. I don't care about you, and you don't care about me. I'll swear that on _my _lineage."

Draco shot a glance at Ginny, who had evidently decided discretion was the better part of valour and was staring at a wall and humming to herself. "You're wrong."

"Yeah? Prove it," Hermione returned, more for the pleasure of using his own words against him then because she honestly expected him to do anything about it. She tapped Ginny on the shoulder. "Come on, Gin, let's go to breakfast."

Draco stood there, watching her walk away. "I will prove it," he said, mainly to himself. "I will."

* * *

"Harry, we should spend some time together," Isabelle said with determination. Honestly, she didn't know if she wanted to spend time with him, but clearly she had to keep a hold on him somehow. "We're dating but it feels like we haven't spent any time together in days."

Harry glanced up from trimming his Firebolt's tail. "What are you talking about? We're eating together right now. We always eat together. Pass me that brush, would you, Belle?"

Isabelle passed him the brush. "Yes, but there's normally people with us. Ron, his girlfriend, Neville -" Isabelle barely managed to keep the scorn from her voice; she thought all three of them were losers and stupid ones at that. "- it should be just _us_ sometimes."

"It's just us now," Harry pointed out, eyes still fixed on his broom.

_Us and your broom_. "How about we spend today hanging out?" Isabelle ploughed on. Merlin, you'd think he hated spending time together as much as she did. Perhaps it was still residual feelings for the girl she had so thoroughly displaced. "Maybe even spend a little _special_ time with each other. In your room."

"Oh," A faint blush covered Harry's face, and he fiddled with his glasses nervously. "Sure. I guess."

* * *

"You have feelings for him," Ginny accused. "Last night you swore it was a hundred percent physical. That wasn't physical. I mean, wasn't _just_ physical, though the sexual tension -"

"Please don't, Ginny," Hermione said wearily. "Just drop it. I don't give a damn about Draco Malfoy."

"I was _standing_ there, Hermione," Ginny replied. "I could practically feel the lust coming off you in waves. Avoiding him isn't going to make it go away."

"Yes, it is!" Hermione rubbed her tired eyes. "Avoiding him is a great plan."

"You know what I think?" Ginny said, her eyes alight. "I think you should take back the power." Overnight, Ginny had undergone an almost magical transformation, Hermione noticed with a tug at her heart. She seemed alive again, somehow, on fire with her feistiness and spirit. The only thing Hermione didn't know was whether the transformation was due to Blaise's kiss or their reconciliation. Whatever it was, tomboyish, brave, determined Ginny Weasley was back, practically glowing with vitality.

"Take back the power? How?"

"Sleep with him," Ginny said with an air of triumph. At Hermione's shocked look, Ginny hurried to continue. "You're always the one in charge, 'Mione, that's just how you have to be. And clearly you let him be in charge, and he's still in charge, doing all the chasing so that you're just a victim – no, not a victim, but…" Ginny searched for the right word. "Submissive. You're acting all submissive and it's not _you_."

"And how would sleeping with him help that?" Hermione was torn between laughter and annoyance. One of the things that made her friendship with Ginny both precious and aggravating was the ease with which Ginny surprised her. Harry and Ron were open books, easy to read, but Ginny never was – except in her devotion to Harry, of course.

Ginny grinned, waving enthusiastically to Blaise as he entered, and ignoring the people glaring at her and muttering. He did a double take at the sight of her, she looked so _happy_. "Simple, really. You take charge, sleep with him, discard him. It'll help you get over him."

"How would you know?" Hermione said crossly, trying to finish the conversation before Blaise reached the table. "And I am _not_ submissive."

"Lately you have been. It's very un-Hermione." Ginny bestowed her megawatt grin on Blaise again as he grabbed a seat next to her. "Hey, Blaise. I don't know if you've met Hermione Granger? Except for last night, of course."

"Hey," Blaise smiled at Hermione artificially. "Listen, Ginny, could we talk alone for a moment? About yesterday?"

"No, we could not," Ginny looked at him squarely. "I'm sorry if I've been leading you on, but I don't think I'm ready for another relationship just yet, okay? I really like you, though. Just be patient, please." She seemed so alive and vivacious that Blaise nearly leant back at the force of her.

He squinted at her in amazement, and then looked at Hermione. "Did you slip something into her cereal? Because she seems to be high."

"I'm not high, I'm normal," Ginny said firmly. "I was low for a while, and now I'm back to normal, so it just seems high by comparison. Today when I woke up I decided I'm over Harry."

Hermione paused, a slice of toast halfway to her mouth, forgetting the weirdness of eating with a friendly Slytherin as she studied Ginny. "Really?"

"Yes. Maybe," Ginny flashed another grin. "Life's too short. Which is why I'm going to go practice Quidditch, like I haven't for weeks." She got up, then paused to kiss Blaise on the cheek. "Thanks for everything, Blaise. You're the best."

Blaise sat there, stunned and silent. Eventually he cleared his throat. "Well, that was… quick. I mean, yesterday she was practically in the depths of despair, and now she's… are you sure you didn't slip anything into her cereal?"

"Reasonably sure," Hermione stared after her friend. Then she moved her attention to Blaise. "So, how long have you been friends with Ginny?" Ginny might think Zabini was innocent, but she wasn't so sure. It was time to find out a little bit more about this apparently amiable Slytherin.

Blaise shrugged. "Few weeks," he said shortly.

"You're remarkably loyal for a friend of such short acquaintance," Hermione leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "She says you've been practically inseparable since her break-up with Harry."

"I suppose," Blaise started to feel worried. Hermione Granger's dark eyes were intent on his face, and he couldn't repress the thought that she could read his mind and see through all the petty lies he'd told. "She needed someone," he couldn't resist adding with a pointed glare.

Hermione winced. "A hit," she acknowledged.

"Don't know what you're talking about," he responded, going directly onto the attack after a short pause. "I understand you're _close friends_ with my friend Draco Malfoy."

"And I was unaware you were friends," Hermione smiled at him, her eyes shrewd.

Blaise felt like hitting himself. He'd been so intent on making her uncomfortable that he hadn't really thought about what he was saying. "We're not. Uh, friends, that is. I just know him, that's all."

"No need to panic about it," Hermione said sweetly, making it very clear that his reaction had only made her more suspicious. "We all have _friends_. I understand Isabelle is one of yours?"

"Used to be," Blaise got up. "I should go."

"But you didn't have breakfast," Hermione got out of her chair too. "Don't worry, I'm leaving. You can have the place all to yourself, spend some time with Draco…" she observed his slight flinch at the word. "Isabelle… Astoria…" By the last one, he had regained his poker-face, but Hermione could still see his slight reaction. Yes, Zabini was in on it, whatever _it_ was.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Blaise lied. "It was nice to meet you, Granger."

"Likewise." Hermione started to walk away and saw Harry sitting in a chair at the other end of the table, intent on his broom. Across from him, Isabelle glanced up shyly from behind the curtain of her hair. For a second, Hermione considered stopping, but then Isabelle tapped Harry on the arm and he looked up at her as well. His expression said _keep walking _so clearly it hurt.

There wasn't going to be any forgiveness there anytime soon, Hermione realised. _Of course, sitting with Ginny and Zabini probably didn't help any. _Then Hermione wondered if she should tell Harry that she had been mistaken about Ginny cheating on him, but she knew he wouldn't listen. Especially not with Isabelle there.

Then she practically ran into Ron on the way out, adding the final touch to a morning of uncomfortable meetings. "Ron," she said shakily, losing her composure instantly and reaching out a hand. "Please, Ron -"

He batted her hand away, walking out into the hall. "I'll never forgive you," he said over his shoulder. "Or Harry, for that matter."

What worried her most was the excessive calmness in his voice – he wasn't shouting or blustering or showing any signs of normality. He didn't sound like Ron. For a slight moment when he turned his head to glare at her, she thought unreasonably that those eyes weren't Ron's eyes – like there was a stranger living out of Ron's head. Then the moment passed and she was just standing there, hand still outstretched as he left. "Why Harry?" she demanded, spinning round. "He didn't do anything -"

"He's done plenty," Ron said coldly.

* * *

"You're all I've got," Ron said later to his girlfriend, kissing her cheek clumsily. "I mean it." Kissing her cheek was all he had done for the past few weeks, Carly suddenly realised. If it wasn't for his transparent need for her she'd be worried about being dumped.

"Right," Carly stared down at her outfit. "Do you think this is the best colour for me? I mean, it's too _dark_ to be royal purple." She looked up at Ron to find his expression distant – as it had been for the past couple of days, since that announcement was made about Hermione Granger's affair.

She could still recall every moment of that perfect time with ease. She'd just been sitting there, right next to the Chosen One (and regrettably near that Slytherin bitch who was his new girlfriend) when people had just started to climb onto the table. Amazing. She'd heard Isabelle mutter something under her breath, probably a swear word, as Ron let out a gasp. When she'd looked at him, he'd looked shocked and a little blank, immediately leaping to the conclusion it was all a lie. Because of course his sweet innocent Hermione could never do anything like that.

It still annoyed her that she hadn't been able to find Ron, Harry, Hermione or Draco Malfoy afterwards. They'd all rushed off, not even her darling Dalmatian thinking to wait for _her_. She would have loved to know what they all said. That would have been the best gossip ever.

And now she couldn't even quite see what he was thinking. It was like he was arguing fiercely with himself, his face twisting up occasionally. Sometimes he even opened his mouth as if to argue with an invisible person. His internal battle was disturbing her own peace of mind. She'd be grateful when she'd finally snagged Harry Potter, at least when he was talking to invisible people she could blame it on his cursed scar.

She leant over and kissed Ron on the mouth, allowing him to pull her down to him on the bed. "Sweetie, I asked you a question," she wheedled. "What do you think of this dress? Do you like it on me?"

"I like it better off you," Ron said, a little viciously, and started to remove it.

* * *

"Where _have_ you been, Harry? We were supposed to meet an hour ago." Isabelle managed a shy, constrained smile for her boyfriend. It made her mouth hurt. "Did you get held up?"

"The Headmistress wanted to talk to me," Harry looked stressed. "Apparently somebody set off the alarms the other day."

"I didn't hear anything. What alarms?"

"You know, the wards for dark magic," Harry had a little line down the middle of his forehead, which he rubbed with an anxious hand. It showed where his wrinkles would be, assuming he grew old enough to get them. "Or rather, they didn't go off. They went off but they didn't make a noise."

Isabelle frowned prettily. "I don't understand."

"Neither does Professor McGonagall," Harry threw himself down into the chair. "Basically, someone did dark magic, and for some reason the wards didn't work."

"How do they know someone did dark magic, then?" Isabelle said carefully.

Harry tried to force a brief smile but gave up on it. "I didn't really get it. Apparently whoever did it somehow removed the spells that make noise but left the ones that actually detect the dark magic. Or something."

"Why did she need to talk to you about it?" Isabelle leant her head on Harry's shoulder, staring up at him with her best adoring look.

He shrugged. "Because I'm Head Boy. Or because I'm the Chosen One, maybe. She asked me to mention it to Hermione, too. But I just… I don't know how I can talk to her. What she did…"

_Yes, I get it. She fucked a Slytherin. How unforgivable._ Isabelle swallowed the words, forcing herself to speak calmly. She hadn't expected his hatred for Draco to bother her – it really shouldn't bother her, but what she felt for Draco was the closest thing she had to affection, and in her own twisted way she hated the disrespect in Harry's voice. "I'll pass the message onto her, if you like."

Harry started, surprised. "Oh, no. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone but Hermione."

"Then why did you tell me?"

Harry paused. Truthfully, he had no idea why he'd shared this with Isabelle. Maybe it was just because she was the only person left who didn't seem to hero-worship that hadn't betrayed him. Except for Neville and Ron who were in turn busy, and needlessly angry. "You're my girlfriend," he said finally, hating the way the words tasted bitter on his tongue. "Honesty's important."

* * *

Hermione yawned, entering her room. She glanced around it quickly, expecting for some reason to see Draco – intellectually she knew there was no way he could have gotten into her room, but she still couldn't help worrying. After all, turning up unexpectedly in her bed was probably the kind of thing he'd think was a good idea.

Plus, Ginny had let Blaise in the other day. According to her there was a spell you could use to get up the slide, allowing boys to enter the girls part of the Gryffindor House. Hermione had been rather shocked to hear that. So it wasn't exactly beyond the realms of possibility that Draco could be here.

She plunked herself down on the bed. It had started raining lightly outside, she could see it through the window, and it made her think of Draco. Everything did, really. It was all so fresh. His betrayal had hurt her more than it should have, considering the essential meaninglessness of their relationship.

She yawned again. It was early – only around nine o'clock – but she felt like going to bed now anyway. She'd been studying all day and her eyes felt dry and itchy because of it. On the bright side, she'd managed to catch up on the work she'd been missing. Of course, she'd also been practically chased by people wanting to know every detail about her and Draco. Insensitive questions had battered her no matter where she went. If she wasn't getting the outright hatred Ginny received, she had certainly still become a laughingstock.

Suddenly Hermione noticed her pillow was shaped oddly. She grabbed it and realised there was something beneath it. A package. On top of it was a white square of parchment, marked in elegant script with the words: _For Hermione. The proof._

Hermione pulled it slowly into her lap. So she hadn't been paranoid, thinking she smelt Draco's scent in the air. He'd been here. And left her something, clearly. _The proof._ The proof that he cared? What a load of rubbish. He'd probably snuck out of the castle into a jewellery store somewhere and thrown down a lot of galleons. She could picture him saying, "I want a necklace that will make my lover forget I screwed her over. No, not the diamonds, they're too expensive. You could use glass. This girl is cheap, she won't notice."

She bit her bottom lip to stop it wobbling. The package seemed too soft for jewellery, anyway. Maybe it was clothes, then. "I'd like a silk dress that will make her think I care about her. Actually, throw in some lingerie, if she doesn't like that I can always use it on someone else." His voice seemed so cold and contemptuous in her mind that every word hurt.

_Maybe I should just throw it out the window._

In the end, though, her curiosity proved too much for her. Hermione yanked apart the package with shaking hands, letting the gift drop out. Then she frowned. What the hell _was_ this? She knew this shade of blue…

It was a scarf, but nobody could have been blamed for thinking it was a giant tangle of wool. It was so mangled and badly made that it looked like a giant snarl until you stretched it a bit. Then it was obvious – it was a scarf made by a very incompetent knitter. Towards the end it got better, but it was still too loose in places and too tight in others.

He'd made her a scarf.

She saw now why the colour was so familiar. It was the same they'd used on the day she taught him to knit – or tried to teach him, anyway. The colour of the ball of wool that had tied them together. Maybe even actually the same wool. Touching the softness of it reminded her of his face, alight with laughter beneath her, his hands trying to tickle her. That tender look that had stayed in his eyes after. _I knew we'd get to bondage eventually…_

A teardrop fell onto the scarf.

_A former Death Eater and the smartest witch of our age outsmarted by a ball of wool!_

_Cheater!_

It must have taken him hours. There was no way magic had created this monstrosity of a scarf. She could picture him, bent over the knitting needles, a furious scowl knitting his forehead as he tried to master the magic of knitting. For her.

_I could give you an adorable pet nickname. How about snugly-bear? My boogedy-woogedy?_

Suddenly, she missed his smile. Like it was a physical pain to not have him here, smirking at her, teasing her, touching her. Like she needed him.

Ginny was right, it wasn't all physical. Hermione had wanted it to be completely physical but it just wasn't. Instead there were all these complex emotions wrapped up in it, now, so that she couldn't even look out the window at the rain without feeling a pain in her heart.

But what _were_ the feelings? They weren't what she had for Ron. Hermione pictured her emotions as a ball of wool, and set about untangling them.

Ron made her feel safe. She always knew what he would do, what he would say. Even when he surprised her it was in a way she could have predicted if she'd thought about it. He had fairly simple impulses – revenge, rage, love. She knew Ron would always be there for her, when it came right down to it. They were linked by seven years of friendship and love, after all.

Draco, on the other hand, never made her feel safe. She didn't trust him and she didn't trust herself around him. He was a wild card – she never knew what he'd do next. He made her feel wild and reckless one moment, free and happy the next – with Draco she could be angry and lost, sexy and sultry, contented and afraid, hopeful and depressed, joyful and crazy. All in the same day. It was both exhausting and miraculous. And he caused her extreme emotions so _easily_.

Every time she thought she'd pinned Draco down as something bad – a spoilt little boy, a dangerous manipulator, a sex-crazed moron – he did something like this and forced her to re-evaluate him. Then he would do something else, and she'd have to start all over again. He was her X factor, the only thing she could never figure out.

Yes, Hermione had feelings for him. The part of her that loved risk – the part that had repeatedly dragged her into incredible danger throughout her time at Hogwarts – was drawn to him almost unbearably. That part of her wanted to forgive him, to excuse him for what he'd done – and what had he done, exactly? Just confided in the wrong person, if he could be believed. For all Hermione knew, if she and Ginny had been friends at the time, she would have started sharing with her as well, regardless of the promise.

_He's playing me_, she reminded herself. _He's playing me, he doesn't care about me, and he'll only hurt me._

And with that the decision was made – she had to start ignoring him completely. This morning had shown that even arguing with him risked opening a can of worms she didn't want to get into. Hermione held the scarf against her cheek, lying down. She pulled the blankets over her.

No more Draco. That was her new rule. She had to do whatever it took to get over him and leave him behind.

"And if avoiding him doesn't work," she said out loud to the empty room, "I guess I can always follow Ginny's advice." She didn't mean it seriously, of course, but the plan did give her some weird sort of comfort – the idea of her regaining control, and in such an epic way. She rubbed the scarf against her cheek as she drifted off.

The unlikely image of herself seducing Draco for a meaningless one-night stand pursued her into her dreams.

* * *

**My bfs coming to stay, so it could be a while till the next chapter. Sorry. Hope you like this.**


	17. Poison

_I wanna love you but I better not touch_

_I wanna hold you but my senses tell me to stop_

_I wanna kiss you but I want it too much_

_I wanna taste you but your lips are venomous poison_

-Groove Coverage

* * *

"Are you using me as a human shield?" They'd only been hanging out for two or so hours, but Ginny was already highly suspicious of her friend's behaviour.

"Maybe," Hermione said sheepishly. At Ginny's glare she flinched. "I just, I don't want him to find me, that's all."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "He's a guy, 'Mione. What's there to be afraid of? You're acting like he's a, I dunno…" She searched for the right word.

"A Terminator?" Hermione suggested helpfully.

"Exactly!" Ginny thought for a second. "Wait, what's a Terminator?"

"A robot that shoots people," Hermione explained. "They follow their targets into the past and never stop coming."

"_What_?" Ginny sat bolt upright. "Where are they? Do they ever go after witches? There aren't any in England, are there?"

As always, the wizarding obliviousness about the Muggle world made Hermione smile. "No, they're not -" she broke off as the library door swung open, frantically turning to see who it was. She relaxed only when it was revealed to be a pudgy Hufflepuff. "I don't want to see him, Gin, and I figure he won't approach if I'm with you. That's all."

"So you didn't actually want to spend time with me?" Ginny put on her best puppy-dog eyes, then dissolved into laughter at the look on Hermione's face. "It's okay, I don't mind. But we're not going to study all day, are we?"

"No," Hermione smiled again, her expression fierce. "I was thinking today we could have a few conversations with people."

Ginny shrank back. "Not Harry. He _hates_ us. Or Ron, apparently he's mad at me too, he hasn't spoken to me for ages." It wasn't that Ginny had a particular problem with facing angry people, but she would rather not waste a Sunday on lost causes.

Hermione shook her head. "I was thinking of having a conversation with Astoria and maybe Isabelle as well."

"And Malfoy? You'll have to talk to him sometime." Ginny said.

"You definitely do," Draco agreed suavely, lowering himself into the seat beside Hermione.

"Merlin!" Hermione leapt about a foot into the air in surprise, and glared at him. "Where did you come from?"

Typically, Draco ignored her question. Instead he moved his attention lazily to Ginny. "Weaselette, think you can give us a minute?"

Ginny bristled in response. "Jackass," she muttered. "Don't call me Weaselette."

"Ten minutes alone and I'll stop calling you that for a month," Draco instantly responded. Ginny hesitated, looking to Hermione for a signal, but she seemed to be frozen with indecision. Draco raised an autocratic eyebrow, and Ginny made her decision.

"Fine," Ginny spat. "Ten minutes. I'll be over there."

"Thank you, _Ginny_," Draco smirked at the irate redhead as she stomped away. "That was nice of her, wasn't it?"

Hermione felt a stab of unwelcome jealousy. "Yes," she said shortly. "What do you want?"

"Forgiveness," Draco said softly, reaching out a hand until it an inch from her cheek. It was so close Hermione could feel the heat against her skin, and she wanted nothing more then to lean in, pressing her face against his hand, pulling him towards her for a kiss. But she wouldn't do it. The strain of having him so close and yet so far away was nearly painful. "You."

"Well, you can't have either," Hermione snapped. With a force of will, she managed to pull away, and with a sigh Draco let his hand drop again.

"Did you get my gift?" Draco said suddenly, staring at her intensely.

Hermione fought to look away, and without her gaze on him she realised all of the students in the library were looking their way and trying to listen in. "I got it," Hermione was unable to stop herself from softening a little, and turning to look at him again. "Thank you. It doesn't change anything, though. It doesn't _mean_ anything."

"I think it does," Draco said strongly. "I think it means something. Please, stop pushing me away all the time!" He shifted his chair closer, until she could feel the heat of his body pressed against hers.

"You deserve it," she managed, trying to ignore his warmth. _He's playing me playing me playing me…_ she chanted in her mind.

Unexpectedly, Draco smirked at that. "Yes, but I've always expected to get more than I deserve, haven't I?"

The remark was so unquestionably _him_ that Hermione had to bite back an answering smile. "The scarf is beautiful, but it doesn't prove _anything_," she said, trying to make him understand. "I don't understand why you bothered. What, do you expect me to believe you've fallen madly in love with or something?"

Draco nearly winced at the contempt in her voice. She obviously wouldn't believe him, even if the answer were yes.

_Is the answer yes?_ Draco didn't think so. Maybe. It could be… no, it couldn't. Did he love her? Perhaps. Even if he did he couldn't say yes, because she'd think he was lying. Hell, _he'd_ think he was lying. How could someone as messed up as Draco possibly know how to recognise love?

Plus, she loved the Weasel, and Draco didn't want to be publicly humiliated. No matter how important this was to him, he still had some pride. Her crying out for the Weasel during her fever still haunted him, like a wound being ripped open again every time he thought about it.

"No," he said firmly, "Of course not." Spying Hermione's blank expression, he realised he was probably on the right path. After all, she'd never given any sign she wanted more than sex… if he told her he had serious feelings for her, she'd run the other way, and who could blame her? It was best to let her believe that he was in lust and in like, and absolutely not in love. He continued, "Love isn't something I'm interested in. I'm interested in you, though. I want you. We could be good together. And you know I care…"

Hermione sat perfectly still. It wasn't as if she'd expected him to say he loved her, but for a moment she'd seen absolute horror on his face, and for some reason that depressed her a little. In fact, she felt near tears. "I don't know you care," she said finally, in a leaden voice. "I know you're a bad knitter, that's about it. You probably pulled the same thing on _Astoria_." The name tasted sour in her mouth, but she had to include it. "I know that you're willing to put in a lot of hours work for whatever stupid little scheme you're using me for."

"I'm not using you," Draco said, pleading with his eyes for her to believe him. He could tell from the way she had said Astoria's name that part of her still believed he'd been unfaithful – he was going to have to deal with that. Clearly, assurances to the contrary weren't making a difference. "Hermione, just give me a chance -" He reached out, catching one of her hands in both of his own, and just holding it. For some reason the warmth of his skin felt like it branded Hermione, and she jerked away.

"No," she said, fighting for breath. "Why are you so interested in me, anyway? _Why_?" To her great relief, she spotted Ginny returning. The redhead looked a little worried, but forced a smile anyway.

"Time to go," Ginny said firmly. "I think you've given everybody enough of a show, don't you?"

Draco shot her a look of annoyance, but stood up anyway. About to go, he leaned back in for a second until his lips were practically against Hermione's ear. "Because you're incredible," he breathed, and Hermione felt her insides melt at the feeling of his breath against her. All she wanted was to pull him against her, kiss him, _hold_ him, _touch_ him…

And then his lips ghosted against her cheek for a second – a phantom touch so light that if she hadn't felt her body's response to it Hermione wouldn't have believed it had happened. She looked up to try and meet his silver gaze, but he was already gone.

"Whew," Ginny remarked. "I'm beginning to see why you need a bodyguard. Or, you know, a chaperone."

Hermione looked around wildly. Everywhere she turned there were fascinated eyes devouring her reaction. "I need to get out of here."

Hermione had never felt so grateful towards Ginny as she did right now. With a brisk nod of reply, Ginny pulled her out of her chair and they got the hell out of there. Outside the library, Ginny paused, then started to steer her back towards the Gryffindor House. Hermione stood stock still. "What?"

"I think," Hermione said coolly, mustering up her self-possession again now that nobody was staring at her, "That it's time we had a little girl talk. With Isabelle." Ginny felt a slow grin start to take over her face at the idea of confronting her enemy. "It's time we got some answers."

* * *

"Ron. Mate. _Please._" Harry felt useless, and more than a little angry at his best friend for behaving so bizarrely. "Can't we talk? I didn't _do_ anything."

"You always do something," Ron said coldly, still walking. "You always do _everything_. You're the Chosen One, right?"

With a growl of frustration, Harry grabbed Ron's arm and pulled, stopping the other boy. "What's this about? Why are you ignoring me?"

"I love Hermione," Ron said baldly. "I _loved_ Hermione," he corrected.

Harry flushed. "I'm sorry. But how's that my f -"

"I thought she was the love of my life," Ron stared at the wall, as though he was seeing someone else. "And she slept with someone else. Not just someone else, someone I _hate_, the worst person in the world she could have done it with. And I sat in the Great Hall and got to hear all about it."

"Ron -" Harry tried to say again, but his friend ignored him.

Ron swung to look at him. "I hear that, and you know Hermione's worried about? _You_. You know who the rest of our House is worried about? Yes, you. Rumours are flying that she was getting revenge on _you_, that's why she did it. Everyone's talking about how hurt _you_ are." Bitterness flowed out of every word. "Hermione's sick, who's there? _You _are. My sister goes through a bad break-up with you and guess who comes out looking like a saint? _You_. She's the one being attacked in the corridors. Because of _you_."

"Ron -" Again, Harry's interjection was absolutely disregarded.

"Because we're Weasleys. I'm a Weasley. A disposable sidekick to the famous Potter. One of the most painful things of my life – losing Hermione – and you still managed to make it all about _you_. I'm a throwaway person, unimportant, because it's all about the Chosen One." The venom in Ron's voice made Harry shrink away. But it also confused him. It was almost like being spoken to by a stranger – the icy correctness was so unlike how Ron normally got angry.

"I'm sorry -" Harry began to say to his departing back, but then reconsidered. Ron clearly needed some time to cool off. Also, Harry felt like he did as well. His temper, always easily excited, had been pricked by the offensiveness of Ron's tone. It wasn't his fault, dammit, it wasn't like he'd asked for this!

With a short curse, he turned and walked the opposite way. He should probably go see Isabelle – he wished that didn't feel like a chore.

* * *

"Draco," Isabelle said smoothly. "Always a pleasure."

Draco rolled his eyes, highly tempted to tell her to cut the crap. But, as always, there was a strange pleasure in seeing her, in knowing there was someone as dark as he was deep inside. The difference lay in the details: nothing could ever be simple for Draco Malfoy, but Isabelle Mulciber had never even _wanted_ anything to be simple. Draco liked a taste of the edge, but Isabelle had crossed the line and didn't regret it.

"Likewise," he drawled, taking a seat next to her. He'd found her in this empty classroom – he'd only had to check a few, because he knew her well enough to guess which area she'd be in. "I'm here on business, though."

Isabelle widened her eyes, reclining in her chair like a queen on her throne. "Do tell."

Draco smiled. "It's going to be _such_ a scandal, Isabelle. Two of the Chosen One's girlfriends cheating on him in such a short time? He'll have trust issues for life."

Isabelle laughed. "You haven't got any Polyjuice Potion."

"Don't need it," Draco replied promptly. "I have access to one of the few people Potter will believe unconditionally."

He could practically see Isabelle's mind whirling. "He doesn't have any friends left but me," she finally said. "You're bluffing."

"I'll tell you a story," Draco said with a fake cheerfulness, putting his feet on the table with a _thunk_. Isabelle glared at them, like he'd broken a rule. He ignored her. "Now, let's assume someone – let's call him _Draco_ – had incriminating photos of someone else. Potter's girlfriend, messing around with Blaise Zabini. The _second_ girlfriend to be messing around with Blaise Zabini."

Isabelle shot up. "You _don't_." She looked enraged, but then calmed. "They'd be dated before I was with Harry. That wouldn't work. Besides, you won't ruin me publicly, I know you won't. And he wouldn't believe you if you gave them to him, or if they were sent to him anonymously."

"If they were professionally dated they'd find that out they were weeks old, yes," Draco admitted cheerfully. "Complex little spell, only experts are able to do it. Is Potter an expert? Well, it doesn't matter," he launched his final missile. "_The Quibbler_ doesn't have anyone that high paid. _Everyone _sends stories like that to the press – absolutely legit, nothing for Potter to be suspicious about. Not planted, just another story. And a story like that, you think they'd have to print it immediately, thus ruining you – except, wait, Potter has a friend on the staff! Loony Lovegood, who'll protect Potter by refusing to print it. Loony Lovegood, who Potter trusts unconditionally despite her craziness. She'll contact him, tell him, he'll believe her, goodbye Isabelle. Simple." He smiled like a shark. "I've kept my promise – to wreck your little scheme without wrecking you. An easy end for everyone."

Isabelle smoothed her skirt with hands that shook. "You _wouldn't_. Draco, I'm so close." Suddenly she paused, her mind running through it. "Wait… why tell me this?"

"A trade-off," Draco came to his point at last. "I will give you all the photos – all my leverage on you – and in return you'll leave Hermione out of it. Out of everything. I know you'll have more schemes, whether or not I wreck this one, and I want your promise that not a single one of them will _ever_ involve her again."

"That's a big promise," Isabelle remarked. "It must have _really_ hurt you to see her mixed up in this, then."

Draco ignored her comment. "Also, you'll make Astoria tell Hermione that I never cheated on her, and you won't interfere with her friendship with the Weaselette – she needs Ginny. Hermione, off-limits, and I don't give the photos to anyone but you."

Isabelle paused thoughtfully. "I'll still be targeting her friends, at least the other members of the Golden Trio."

"The only reason I care about them is that they might hurt her, and they've already done that," Draco snapped. "They mean nothing to me beyond that. In return for the photos I also want you to try and encourage Potter to forgive Hermione, though." _But not the Weasel. He's not good enough for her._

Isabelle rocked back in her seat. "You drive a hard bargain. All that for some photos?"

"All that for your plan," Draco retorted. "It means everything to you. I don't know why, but it does."

"You'll give up your chance at winning for her," Isabelle noted.

"My chance at winning _this_ way, by going to the press," Draco said. "I do still want some revenge, but that doesn't mean I'm not prepared to be a bit nicer in return for your cooperation."

Isabelle stared at him. "Deal. Now get out, I expect Harry to turn up any minute, he's very predictable."

* * *

Hermione and Ginny had tried practically every room in the school looking for Isabelle Mulciber before they heard Harry's voice coming out of this classroom. Now they were standing by the door, trying to make sense of what they were hearing.

"I don't get it, Belle… why do you think I should forgive Hermione?" Ear pressed against the door (highly undignified), Hermione still couldn't hear Isabelle's individual words, only Harry's fractured responses. "Yes… but… oh, all right. I guess…"

"We shouldn't be doing this," Ginny whispered to Hermione. Despite her words, neither moved away for nearly a minute, listening to Harry's complete capitulation and promise to reconcile with Hermione. Then Hermione straightened and moved away, dragging Ginny with her.

"What _was_ that?" Hermione was confused. "I thought she didn't want me and Harry to be friends? What about…why would she…" She lapsed into thought.

"Maybe," Ginny had turned pale again. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she's a good person. Maybe she really likes Harry, and wants friends, and she really believed I cheated."

She and Hermione stared at each other and both said "No" at the same time, decisively.

"It must be part of their plan," Hermione decided. "But why make Harry hate me, then try and get him to forgive me? Aaargh! This just keeps getting more complicated." She kicked the wall in frustration, only succeeding in hurting her foot. "Ow."

"Maybe there's more than one plan," Ginny suggested without much hope. "Merlin, this is confusing. Is it possible we're just paranoid and there _is_ no plan?"

Again, they shared a look and came to the same conclusion. "No."

Hermione sighed. "Let's see if we can find Astoria Greengrass."

* * *

"Are you sure?" Astoria demanded, pulling her blouse on untidily. She wasn't in a good mood, mainly because Draco had just kicked her naked Gryffindor companion out of the classroom they'd been using as an ad hoc boudoir. "That doesn't sound like Isabelle."

"She promised," Draco said inflexibly. "Contact her if you don't believe me. We made a… deal, of sorts. The next time you see Hermione, make it very clear to her that I never cheated on her with you."

After a second, Astoria started to pull her blouse off slowly again. "You're not together anymore. It wouldn't be cheating if we were to…"

"No," Draco said quickly. "Merlin, you only just got laid. There's such a thing as too much."

"You can never have too much sex," Astoria smiled seductively at him. With her hair mussed from her recent activities and the smell of love-making all around her, practically broadcasting what she'd been doing, the Draco of last year would have found her attractive. Now he just felt faintly annoyed at her – she made herself so cheap sometimes it was hard not to. "It's like being too thin or too rich. But then, you'd know about all three, wouldn't you?"

"I suppose," Draco said boredly. "Astoria, according to you, we're friends. Why constantly try and seduce me?"

"We'll probably get married someday," Astoria said complacently. When she saw his expression she laughed and flapped a hand at him. "Not right away, of course! But our families are of the same status, we move in the same world, we're both rich and attractive, and neither of us will mind if the other one has affairs. I've always thought we'd probably end up together."

Draco had to admit that the thought had crossed his mind before, when considering who his parents would want him to marry eventually. "That's so…empty." He said finally.

"I keep forgetting how you've _changed_," she said with a laugh. "Draco Malfoy, reformed romantic. Dreaming of his bookworm."

"I suppose I am," Draco said coolly. "So find someone else of our status. Hell, if you're pushed to it, there's always Blaise."

"What a horrific thought," Astoria said amiably. "Could you pass me my bra? It's on that bookshelf behind you."

Draco was just exiting the room where he'd found Astoria when he ran into Hermione and Ginny. "Hello," he said easily, trying not to be too worried. "Imagine running into you again." He could well imagine just how bad this would look if Hermione chose to enter the room.

"Imagine," Hermione said icily. "Get out of the way, we're going into this classroom."

_Distract her. Distract her! _Draco's mind threw up several possibilities. "We should talk. Ginny, a moment, please."

"I hate the way everyone keeps dismissing me," Ginny said crankily. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Fine, stay then," Draco knew just how to get rid of her. He stared at Hermione, allowing his expression to broadcast every single one of his inappropriate thoughts as he scrutinized every single curvaceous inch of her. He let his molten silver eyes follow the line of her breasts, the curve of her hip, the lushness of her lips.

Ginny flushed bright red. How the hell was he doing that? Draco's look was pure sex, and it was making her highly uncomfortable. Hell, she was getting hot just standing next to Hermione, who right now didn't look like she could breathe. It was something about the intensity of gaze that made it seem as private and erotic as if he had been running his lips over her instead. Ginny felt almost envious of the enraptured Hermione. "Fine," she burst out finally. "I'll be at the other end of the corridor, making no noise and pretending I'm not there. Come get me when you're done _talking_." With a last ferocious look, she stalked off.

Draco stared after her, subtle admiration in his eyes. "I really do like her, appalling family connections aside," he said, turning back to Hermione.

"I'm _so _glad you approve of my friendships," Hermione said scathingly. "What do you want to talk to me about? I think we covered it all yesterday, and this morning."

"Yes," Draco summarized what he'd gotten out of those conversations. "You said I was only interested in sex. I disproved you. I showed you that I do care. Why won't you believe me?"

"Maybe because you keep _making_ it about sex," Hermione pointed out angrily. "Staring at me, and kissing me… you want to sleep with me."

"Well, since I'm neither dead nor gay, of course I do," Draco responded evenly. "If you want us to be platonic for a while, we can be, though. We could even go on a date… spend some time together…"

"What are you up to?" Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "You're not even capable of not making a move. It's all about sex to you."

Draco started to look annoyed. "I've proved repeatedly that that's not true! What more do you want me to do?"

Hermione looked at him. She felt strange, and lost. She didn't know what she wanted… maybe what she'd really wanted was him to say he loved her. But then, he would have been lying anyway, wouldn't he? Maybe she should feel grateful that he'd at least told her the truth about that. _Love isn't something I'm interested in… _bastard. "Stay still," she told him, her voice quavering. He cocked an eyebrow but remained perfectly motionless otherwise.

Hermione stepped towards him, reaching up to touch his hair and run her hands down his face, down to the neck of his shirt. She undid a single button, pushing her hand in to touch his chest with light fingers. She leant forward and touched her lips lightly to the same spot. Draco jerked but then stilled himself.

"Hermione -"

"Shh," Hermione whispered. She moved her lips up to his neck, his cheek, leaving fluttering little kisses as she went. Her hands came down to hold his wrists, as if they were handcuffs, and she kissed the corner of his mouth. She avoided his lips, moving downwards again. Part of her registered that it was daytime, and they were in a corridor, and this was wrong, wrong, wrong, but the rest of her didn't care.

Hermione could feel Draco's reaction in the tautness of his body, in how controlled he was. She could feel him dying to kiss her – to take, to conquer, to make this passionate instead of weightless and unreal. She traced a light finger up his arm, moving along the fabric of his shirt to cover his heart with her palm – where he'd held it the other day.

The curve of his shoulder, where it met his neck, the play of muscles there, seemed suddenly irresistible to Hermione. She leaned in and kissed it with another of those barely-there kisses, before reconsidering and giving it a playful nip. Still he didn't move to take control as she expected.

Hermione stepped back, pulling her hand away from his heart. "Thank you."

"It's not just about sex," he said again, his voice rough with longing.

She nodded thoughtfully, trying to remain composed. "I know. I know, Draco." She turned to go get Ginny, looking back at him as if she couldn't help herself. "The Potions classroom, tomorrow night, at eight."

"What?" Draco wasn't at his mental best, struggling to keep his eyes from drifting places they shouldn't yet again.

"That's where you'll pick me up," Hermione explained. "For our date." She turned the corner and Draco was left standing there, breathless.

"Incredible," he said to himself in wonder, before turning to leave.

* * *

Unknown to either, Astoria had witnessed the whole thing from the darkened doorway. Eyebrows raised, she wondered what the hell was wrong with the Granger girl. A smart woman would have gotten out of this relationship three days ago. Clearly, Granger wasn't that smart. Perhaps it was time for her to wise up, a little. Even if it wasn't exactly in line with what Isabelle or Draco wanted… Astoria had her own reasons for what she did. She might not always be on Draco's side, but that didn't mean she didn't care about him in her own weird way. Somehow, everyone ended up caring about Draco, whether they wanted to or not. He was just that kind of person... magnetic, charismatic.

Ginny and Hermione came back around the corner, bickering companionably. "Why does everyone seem to feel this need to leave me out of things?" Ginny complained, glaring at the other girl. "I mean, honestly -"

Perfect timing. Astoria stepped out. "Funny you should mention that," she purred. "I wanted a one-to-one conversation with Granger now." She smirked at the girl. "Run along, Weasel Girl."

"Screw you," snapped Ginny, remembering the last conversation she'd had with Astoria, when she'd caught her trying to seduce Harry. Turning to Hermione, she said, "And now Harry will come along, wanting to forgive you, and tell me to get lost. That's the way today is clearly going. Merlin, I hate my life sometimes."

Hermione gave her an understanding smile, before moving her shrewd brown eyes to Astoria. "I don't do one-on-one with girls like you."

"Aww, worried about your virtue?" Astoria snickered. "From what I've heard, there isn't much of that left. Thanks to Draco."

Hermione reddened. "Shut up. You don't know a thing about me and Draco."

"I know more than you do," Astoria said softly. "All right, the redhead can stay. She's irrelevant."

"I'm _irrele -_" Ginny subsided at a look from Hermione, and followed the other two into the empty classroom.

"We were looking to talk to you," Hermione said sharply. "About the amount of involvement you seem to have in our lives lately. And who you're working for."

Astoria widened her eyes in a parody of innocence, licking her lips. "I don't work for anyone, bookworm. I'm selfish like that. Screw who I want, do what I want, and don't care who I hurt. But then," Astoria widened her smirk. "That's something we seem to have in common, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" Ginny said before Hermione could.

"You don't love Draco, and he doesn't love you, right, bookworm? You do _care_, though." Astoria curled a strand of hair around her finger, lounging against a bookshelf insouciantly. "But you're willing to screw him and screw him over anyway."

"I thought it was the other way around," Hermione said harshly. "After all, that's what you said, isn't it?"

"I lied to protect him," Astoria said smoothly. "He never cheated. Not a cheater, our Draco – quite a surprise to me. Of course, normally his relationships are so short it hardly matters…"

"So you wanted him back?" Ginny guessed.

"No," Astoria snapped. "I do wish you'd remember you're irrelevant, and stop interrupting. This is a conversation between other people." She transferred her gaze to Hermione. "I was trying to protect him from himself. See, Draco likes to take risks. Likes to _rebel_. But a mudblood -" she ignored Ginny's hiss. "That's a rebellion too far from his parents' point of view. He gets serious about you, they get seriously annoyed at him, and the next thing you know Draco has no money, no family, and no future. Because of you."

"That's his choice," Hermione said steadily.

Astoria raised her eyes to the ceiling in irritation. "But if you cared, it would be your choice. To protect him. Because this little screw up could cost him everything."

"But if he loves her -" Ginny started to say.

Astoria broke in with a laugh. "Love? What do Malfoys know about love? 'Love is a devil,'" she quoted. "'The only evil angel is love.' One of his favourite sayings. Probably the only Shakespeare he knows." She turned her laser eyes on Hermione. "But if you loved him… well, you'd do what's best for him. He wants you now. Your little act of resistance has made him infatuated with you, the _challenge_, so it might last a while. But sooner or later he'll get bored of you." The words hit Hermione like the lash of a whip. "He'll hate you for this. Do you really think you're worth more than his family, his money, his standing, his friends?" Astoria was rapidly losing control.

Hermione stood there, frozen by the look in Astoria's eyes. "You really do care," she finally said, through numb lips. "You actually do want what's best for him."

For the first time in a long time, Astoria dropped her guard and showed exactly what she was feeling. "I've known Draco for _years_," she said, her voice low. "Our families used to spend Christmas together, did you know that? When he was five he pushed me into a carnivorous plant and I almost died. When he was nine he cut my hair into a Mohawk. I attended his sister's funeral– I'm one of the only people who even knows that he _had_ a sister. I cheered him on in every Quidditch match. Took him to the sick bay after he was smashed, _smashed_ against the ground when that bastard turned him into a ferret. He had broken ribs, did you know that? Hilarious, wasn't it? I was also there when they were fixing all those slashes your precious _Chosen One_ did. Some went down to the bone. I went to him when I thought I might be pregnant, when my sister was a bitch to me, when I needed a laugh. I'm not in love with him but he's like a cousin to me, he's one of the few people in pureblood society I trust, and I am _damned_ if I'll let you screw him over without doing anything about it!" Astoria's voice rose as she reached the end of her long speech, and she turned to the side, breathing heavily. Then she turned back, facing Hermione head on. "I am begging you, one human being to another, don't do this to him. Let him go, even if you have to be cruel to do it."

"It doesn't matter if I cancel our date tomorrow," Hermione's whole face felt numb by now. To her surprise, hot tears were gathering at the corners of her eyes. There was something so _right_ about what Astoria was saying – suddenly all Hermione could see was the damage they'd cause, far-reaching and irreparable.

Hermione had nearly been forgiven by Harry. She had been forgiven by Ginny. Her old life was within reaching distance, but this would destroy that completely. She could see it clearly – her and Draco, hated by everyone else, except maybe Ginny. Alone with each other, without anyone else. Until eventually they despised each other.

Except – she couldn't see herself despising him. She hadn't been able to feel that way after Thursday. Some hate mixed with lust and confusion and something that could even be the edge of love, but none of the contempt and disgust that would make her despise him. She didn't think she ever could. And Hermione couldn't stand the thought of him trapped with her, despising her. Disgusted by her.

It was better it ended now.

The edge of love… it wasn't the edge. It was real love. She knew that now. Not that it mattered. _Love isn't something I'm interested in._ She wouldn't wreck his life for a passing infatuation, for the hope that someday he'd feel the same. That would be the most selfish thing in the world.

"It doesn't matter if I cancel our date," Hermione repeated. "He'd just keep trying to make another one. He won't listen if I say I don't want him…" She felt Ginny put an arm around her, trying to comfort her and support her without interfering. _Thank you, Ginny._

"Then go on the date," Astoria's face was flushed, and her eyes sparkled with angry tears. "Go, make him see it won't work. Break up with him. Reject him. Make it clear you don't want him. I don't care what it takes. _Please_."

It occurred to Hermione that Astoria was lying to herself if she really thought she didn't love Draco. "I'll do it," Hermione said finally. "I promise. Whatever it takes." Tears blurred her vision. She felt suddenly cold.

"Hermione, are you sure -" Ginny started to say, but she was ignored by both girls.

"From one girl who loves Draco to another, I promise," Hermione said, keeping her voice even through strength of will. "You won't lose him."

Astoria laughed. It wasn't a nice noise. "A lot of girls love Draco. You'll find that they all lose him, sooner or later. And I don't love him like _that_, anyway, not the way you do, so perhaps it won't hurt so much when I do lose him." To Hermione's surprise, Astoria grasped her hand, still ignoring Ginny completely. "I'm sorry that he doesn't feel the same, but if it's any consolation, this is the most I've ever seen him care about someone. Draco infatuated… is quite something. Quite... incredible." With another strange little laugh, she was gone, leaving Hermione and Ginny stunned.

"You don't have to -" Ginny started to say, then changed her mind. "Astoria -"

"I'm not going to wreck his life," Hermione whispered, and then she was crying in earnest. All Ginny could do was hold her friend and wait for the storm to end.

* * *

**I know. This just keeps getting worse for them. I just figured if Hermione really thought about how bad it could be for _him_, not just her, she might realise a few things.**

**Poll is still open on Ginny, so far Blaise and Harry are about equal, but Giant Squid is gaining ground. Yes, really.**


	18. Blame It On Me

_You can blame it on the small things_

_You can blame it on your heartbeat_

_The wrong day_

_You can blame it on your regrets_

_And all your little secrets_

_You keep them_

_You can show me all your old scars_

_That you got from all the old wars_

_You fought so you could tell me:_

_I'm not the one who needs saving._

- Parachute

* * *

"How about this one? It's beautiful," Ginny suggested yet another of the dresses, this time with a trace of envy. The dress is question was slightly wizarding in style, and a beautiful shade of blue that reminded Hermione of the robes she'd worn to the Yule Ball.

"It feels like I'm dressing for a funeral," Hermione said, then mentally berated herself at the expression on Ginny's face. "Listen, I didn't mean… sorry. This is just strange. I'm dressing up to go out and break my own heart. I don't even know what to say to him."

"Say you love him," Ginny was stubbornly, absolutely against Hermione breaking up with Draco. Admittedly, she still couldn't decide if he was a good guy or a bad guy, but if it came to a choice between him being poor and Hermione being unhappy Ginny knew exactly where she stood.

"That might work," Hermione agreed listlessly, starting to struggle into the dress. "It could definitely scare him off. It wouldn't be exactly pleasant, though."

"That's not what I meant and you know it," the redhead pulled out a floaty green top and stared at it with naked jealousy, distracted by it. "You _so_ have to take me to that guy. Phil. I want clothes like this. Were they expensive?"

"You can borrow anything you want," Hermione promised. "And Phil didn't pick the clothes, Draco did. He paid for them, too. I still can't decide if that's sweet or not."

Ginny sat still for a moment, staring at her friend. Hermione's face was wan, with ugly purple circles under her eyes – unlike Ginny her misery did not make her beautiful. When she'd gone to her first class, Transfiguration, the teacher had ordered her back to bed immediately, assuming she was still sick. "He might love you back, you know."

"He doesn't," Hermione repeated what she'd been saying for the past few hours. "Please, just leave it, Ginny. I know he doesn't. But what do I _say_?"

"Say you lo-"

"_I can't_!" Hermione whirled around to face her friend, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. She did indeed look like someone going to a funeral. "I only just realised… I mean, I didn't know… it's all so _much._ And I just, I just c-couldn't stand there and hear him say he doesn't f-feel like I do, okay? Or worse, what if he pretends he does?"

"He wouldn't," Ginny insisted, though she had no idea if Draco Malfoy would lie about something like that. She just couldn't stand to see Hermione hurting this much. It was clear that on Friday when Hermione thought she'd never talk to him again, she'd been filled with anger. Now that seemed to have faded completely, leaving only a bone-deep sorrow. A lesser girl than Ginny Weasley might have felt viciously happy that the girl who had caused her own unhappiness was also getting a broken heart, but over the last few days their friendship had become closer than ever and all Ginny could feel at Hermione's misery was an echo of it in herself.

"He might," Hermione grabbed the pair of shoes Ginny held out. "If he thought he could keep me like that, he might lie about it. Draco likes to win, he'll do anything for a challenge. Why else would he be after me?" Hermione straightened, giving Ginny an artificial smile. "Do I look alright?"

"Yes," Ginny said. "But I think -"

"Did you see Za- Blaise today?" Hermione tried to change the subject.

Ginny shrugged her thin shoulders. "We waved, said hi. Didn't really talk. I think he's still embarrassed about everything. It'll fade, though, right? I'd hate to lose him."

Hermione suddenly became absorbed in applying concealer to under her eyes. "Mhm."

Ginny knew from her poker face that Hermione was very far from approving of her friendship with Blaise, but she ignored that. "I mean… I care about him."

"I know you do." Hermione took a deep breath. "I'd better go, I'm going to be late."

* * *

"Hello Hermione," Draco said, his voice smooth.

It was both better and worse then Hermione had thought. Better because she'd always wondered what he would look like in a proper, muggle-style suit, and the reality was beyond her wildest imaginings, and worse because that somehow made it harder. His pale hair curled around the collar, his ivory skin was nearly as pale as the formal white shirt, and his long eyelashes seemed just as dark as the black of the suit. He seemed to be made of monochrome, the only touch of colour the silver of his eyes and his smiling lips – smiling in honest happiness, she thought.

It was enough to break her heart a little, knowing that she only had him for this evening. One date was what Hermione had promised herself – several hours of selfishness before she gave him up.

It was weird, but now she knew she was in love with him it seemed obvious she had been for a while. It seemed clear in hindsight that Hermione's interest in Ron had been waning since the first time she kissed Draco. It would be incorrect to say he'd taken Ron's place – instead Draco had just outshined everything she thought she'd felt before. Ron had always been her friend first, and Hermione had always thought they'd be friends if nothing else. She didn't think that with Draco. She couldn't have been Draco's friend because the pain would have killed her.

When she argued with Ron she sometimes wanted to slap him. When she argued with Draco she wanted to hit him, scream at him, kiss him, stare at him, hold him, sleep with him, or just keep arguing until he forced her to shut up with a kiss. He made her feel so out of control with her own emotions it terrified her. The love hadn't been sudden – it had occurred over weeks – but the realisation of it had been.

She wondered why they always had to be moving a hundred miles a minute, why they couldn't be slow, why they couldn't be easy. She wondered why they couldn't be right. She wished it didn't have to be like this. She wished it wasn't her job to save him, to save herself, to save them both from the hurt and pain they would cause each other.

"Hello Draco," Hermione smiled up at him, and took the arm he proffered. She wondered why the corridor outside the Potions classroom was empty, if he'd organised that somehow.

"You look amazing," Draco said softly, still smiling at her. Hermione felt herself flush and shake her head in automatic denial. "No, you really do. This way."

Hermione didn't really know what to say. She wanted to tell him every detail of her week, her year, her life; and hear every detail of his as well. She wanted to argue with him about nothing at all. Tell him she loved him. Tell him she needed him. There were so many thoughts and words that she couldn't be sure what would come out if she spoke, and so stayed completely silent.

He cast her a quizzical glance as he led her down a corridor she'd never been to before. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Hermione said, dredging up the word from somewhere. She knew she must look absolutely sick and was grateful to him for not mentioning it.

"Here we are," Draco said finally, letting go of her arm. She felt an immediate shock of loss and hated herself for it. He stepped forwards to open the heavy door for her, gesturing for her to go first – a true, automatic gentlemanly act.

Hermione stepped through the door and gasped. It was one of the castle's many little balconies that were so hard to find, but that wasn't what impressed her. What impressed her was what he'd done with it.

Magical twinkling snowflakes danced their way down from the starry sky, settling into a powdery whiteness on the ground. Two elegant chairs and a laden table sat in a small circle where the snow didn't seem to fall. Rose vines wound around the legs of the chairs, trimmed the table, and decorated the edge of the balcony. The enormous, perfect white roses glowed, providing light so that no candles were needed.

Draco had done it again – created another small space where the rest of the world didn't seem to exist.

"It's beautiful," she breathed.

"Yes," Draco agreed. It didn't escape her attention that he was only looking at her, and Hermione blushed again. With a slight bow, he pulled out one of the chairs for her to sit down.

Hermione looked at the plates. "Are these pancakes?"

"Um," Draco blushed, unable to help it. This was his chance – what if he did something wrong? He couldn't lose her, not when he was so close to getting her back. It would kill him. "I know you… uh… don't like house-elves doing stuff, so I cooked. They might not be very good," he said apologetically.

Hermione felt like kissing him. "They'll be perfect," she promised. "I know they will."

Draco smiled at her again. "I doubt it, but we can smother them in strawberries, cream and melted chocolate."

"And then have a heart attack," Hermione said dryly, mainly to distance herself. "Do we really need all of these?"

Draco rolled his eyes, flashing her a wicked grin. "I've never cooked before. These were the fourth lot of pancakes I made, and I'm still not sure how edible they are. I'm pretty sure teaching me how to make them and watching me screw it up repeatedly caused Winky great pain."

"Winky?" Hermione remembered the house-elf. "How's she doing?"

"You know her?" Draco picked up a strawberry. "Of course you do. She's doing well, I think. I only met her today. She offered to help, I didn't ask. My point is that we may need all of these decadent treats, in great quantities, to survive these pancakes."

"Oh." Hermione felt her mouth go a little dry as he bit into the strawberry, white teeth sinking deep in to the redness of it. Those _lips_. Draco Malfoy should be illegal just for the effect he had on her.

He caught her looking and smirked. "Do you want some?" He reached the remainder of it towards her, and Hermione leaned forwards to take the rest in her mouth. Then she licked the sticky juice off his fingers, unable to help herself. He looked surprised at her forwardness, but then shot her a smirk that seemed so suggestive she flushed an even deeper red.

"Thanks," she said, a little croakily, and grabbed her glass of wine to distract herself from him.

It was much later when they finished. Draco and Hermione left the seats, and ended up lying side by side in the magical snow, which was warm and soft, pointing to the stars they recognised. Draco knew a surprising amount.

"I think that's Venus," Hermione said dreamily, lifting a heavy arm to point. "That's the brightest one, isn't it?"

"Yes," Draco replied. Hermione couldn't see his expression from how they were lying, but he sounded a little strange. "It's the brightest because it's after the goddess of love. The Romans thought that she was the most powerful – the brightest – of all the deities, in a way. Love conquers all."

_I wish_. "Do you believe in gods? Or God, or Allah? Or anything like that?"

Draco was silent for a long moment. "I believe in judgment."

"For what?" Hermione knew what he meant, but wanted to make sure.

"For who we are, for what we've done," Draco's voice sounded sure now. "I really believe that there's some kind of… reward, or punishment. My father always did say actions have consequences."

"Well, I hope it's fair," Hermione said, trying to be flippant. "Listens to our side of the story. Otherwise I'm going to have a lot of detentions for breaking all these rules -"

Draco snorted. "I hope it's not fair. Because if it's fair, then my family…" There was another long pause while Hermione tried to think what to say. "Never mind."

"What time is it?" Hermione stifled a slight yawn. If it hadn't been for the increasing piles of snow, she would have assumed they'd been there less than an hour. As it was she couldn't tell.

"Eleven thirty," Draco stood up, assuming she meant she wanted to leave. He grabbed both her hands and pulled her up after him, gently. "You know," he said quietly, "If there _is _judgment… you're the best person I've ever known. You'll be fine."

"Thank you," Hermione whispered, following him. It felt somehow appropriate to whisper – like they were children, telling secrets in the dark. All of a sudden as they passed an empty classroom she froze – the classroom reminded her what she had to do, now. "You're a good person too."

"Am not," Draco said, faking horror to hide how happy the brief sentence made him. "Hermione, you're ruining my reputation!" He stopped walking too as he noticed her stillness. "What's the matter?"

"We need to talk," Hermione said flatly, walking into the classroom.

The abrupt change of mood nearly gave Draco whiplash. "Ah, the four words guaranteed to strike terror into any man," he joked feebly, trying to move the conversation back to light teasing and tenderness. Her expression didn't shift.

"I like you," Hermione said.

"I like you too."

"No, you don't get it – I _like_ you," Hermione said, in agony. "I don't _love_ you." Draco went so still that Hermione flinched. "I can't do this."

"I didn't say you had to love me," Draco said, his tone turning harsh. "We're just dating, we don't have to be in love."

"I _want_ to be in love," Hermione hesitated, then decided to use the one excuse she knew would work. "I _am_ in love, in fact. With Ron. And as long as I'm with you, I don't see that working. I can't be with you and love him, I'm not that sort of person."

"You were that sort of person last week and the week before," Draco pointed out, trying to look as normal as possible. Inside he felt clammy hands of fear clutch at him. Weasley, bloody Weasley. He should have known. He _had_ known, that was the worst of it, but he'd set himself up to get rejected anyway.

Hermione closed her eyes. "I just can't do it. I have to… this was a good date. Thanks for asking me out. Thank you for everything, and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but this is as far as it goes. You're not Ron. I don't feel anything for you." Her stomach rolled at the blatant lie.

"Sure you don't," Draco drawled, his mask back in place. "Do you sleep with everyone you don't feel anything for?"

"Only the ones guaranteed to be good in bed, and you got five stars in peer review," Hermione flashed back sarcastically, insulted. "Merlin, of course I don't! You were just… there."

"Like Mount Everest," Draco observed, his tone so cold Hermione felt frostbitten. He took a step forward and she took a step back so that she was against the teacher's desk. "It's good to know I was in the right place at the right time, or it would have been someone else, right?"

"Maybe," Hermione said, trying to be angry with him. It would make this so much easier if she could be angry with him. He advanced another step, and Hermione stepped around the desk, keeping a wary eye on him. Draco looked like he hated her. "Draco, please. We had… fun…" as soon as she said it, she knew it had been the wrong thing to say. "It was good. Can't we just… leave it at that?"

"Leave it at that," Draco repeated thoughtfully. His expression was icy as he continued to advance. Hermione found herself pressed against the wall, and felt an unpleasant frisson of fear. He was only a foot away now.

"Can't we just leave it?" she begged him, feeling her heart splintering. "Please? Just move on? I love someone else. I'm sorry. Can't we do this nicely?"

"Nicely," Draco echoed. He was only inches from Hermione now. He grasped her wrists, pulling them above her head to hold them against the wall. She stared at him, trapped, her eyes wide. "When people separate nicely, they have a goodbye kiss."

"Draco -" As always, he ignored every protest, and kissed her.

This kiss was different, though. They had kissed passionately before, even roughly, but this wasn't really a kiss. It was more like an assault: maybe even a punishment. He forced her mouth open with his tongue, scouring the insides, as he leant his weight on her wrists until she moaned with the pain.

For a few seconds she simply lay there passively, taking what she could get. Then the anger she'd wanted sparked in Hermione when she thought _I'm doing the right thing dammit. The right thing for him. I don't deserve this._ She bit down on his tongue, drawing blood, and then tried to attack his lips with her teeth. He evaded her, pushing his lips harder against hers, smashing their teeth together until she felt a trickle of blood in her own mouth. She heard her own whimper as a tear slid hopelessly down her face.

Much to her surprise, Draco pulled back as he felt the wetness against his own face. "Hermione," he said, his voice agonised. "Sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't…" His grip on her loosened, but Hermione found herself grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him towards her again. She was angry with him and angry with herself, and this felt like the only way of letting it out. She wanted hardness and brutality, to be used and to use in return. It was a final selfishness that she couldn't keep herself from.

She tried to kiss him hard, but Draco refused to join in, kissing her with a gentleness she'd never felt from him before. She felt impotent rage against him – she wanted him to bite her breasts through the dress, bruise her hips and thighs, move deep inside her with punishing thrusts that would wash away the feelings of loss. Instead, he touched her so gently all she could do was feel. She tried to bite at his neck, to make him angry.

"No," he said, his voice iron. "The last time. We do it this way." She gave in, letting him explore her mouth gently – at first she couldn't even feel the movement of his lips against her bruised, numb ones, but slowly the sensation crept in. His hands moved to her back, rubbing it gently, the movement pressing her against his body lightly. She could feel the swell of his breathing. Hermione's body started to hum with anticipation as all the viciousness in her melted away, to be replaced by love. They were really going to do this. One last time.

The only sound in the room was their breaths – they were breathing in time, she noticed abstractly. His left hand moved to her hair, stroking gently instead of pulling on it, then moved down to her sleeve. With a casual flick of his wrist, it was released, and he moved to the other one. The dress collapsed into a silken pool on the floor. He started to stroke her body, investigating every inch of it with warm hands. After a minute he followed that with his lips, dropping tender kisses down her body. All Hermione could do was hug her arms around him, trying to pull him closer.

Hermione let out a shuddering gasp as he rested a hand on the smooth curve of her skin just above the waistband of her dampening panties, and let her head fall back against the wall. Then she decided that if she was semi-naked, he should be too, and leaned forward to start work on that, struggling with his buttons in her frantic desire to see all of him. "Shh," he whispered, covering her hands with one of his. "Slow, not fast."

Hermione moaned against him, unable to help it, as his lips brushed against her breast. It was only the lightest touch but she somehow felt it through her bra anyway – it was like her entire body had become more sensitive, attuning itself to these light caresses. Even the feel of his body heat so close gave her a sensual thrill.

Draco helped her with his shirt, but when her greedy hands drifted towards his pants he stepped closer so that she couldn't reach her objective, and moved one of his wandering hands to the outside of her panties. He pushed the heel of his hand against them, pressing the material against her most sensitive area, and then moved with one finger to push the material inside her wetness. She moaned again, pressing herself against him, wanting more than these muffled touches. "Please…"

"Shh," he said again, but moved his hand inside her panties to touch her directly. The other hand continued to caress her left breast, while his mouth paid homage to the right one. Her nipples hardened against his persuasive caresses. Hermione felt the surges of heat down low that meant she was close, and closed her eyes again.

"Let me go," she managed to say. "Let me touch you."

"Let go," he ordered, ignoring her plea. She had no choice but to do what he commanded. He was touching her, he was so close to her, she loved him so much. Within seconds she felt herself letting go, moving against his hand, her inner muscles tightening against his slow-moving finger as she came. It was a strange climax – so different to her usual. Usually they were an ecstatic mix of desperation and pleasure, but in this there was just the pleasure, consuming her from within. Slumped against the wall, she sighed as the pleasure washed her away. She realised suddenly she'd been squeezing his arms tightly with her hands, and let go quickly.

Even as she felt the aftershocks, she was dimly aware of him shedding his clothing and ridding her of her undergarments so that they were both naked. Nether of them thought about how it was a classroom, not a bedroom, as he pulled her against him and kissed her forehead.

The kiss nearly made Hermione giggle – it seemed so absurdly chaste after everything else. But then she was distracted as he wound her legs around him, entering her, pushing her back against the wall as he slowly invaded her. It felt wonderful.

Hermione tugged impatiently at his hair – her fingers had somehow ended up grasping the strands in a death-grip – when he slowed down even more. She felt him laugh as he buried his face in her shoulder and kissed it. "Patience," he whispered. She marvelled at his self control – she'd already come once and she still had less than him.

It felt like torture to Draco, but he knew the slow pace would make her eventual orgasm more powerful. Despite his need he was still in no hurry to end this – she tasted like sweat and honey – she tasted like _Hermione_ – and he didn't ever want to stop tasting her. Stop touching her. In the back of his mind echoed the realisation that he had lost her, she was already gone, and that this Hail Mary Pass was doomed to failure, but that only made the moment more poignant. He pulled his head back so he was staring straight at her beautiful face. "Open your eyes," he managed to say. "Open them so I can see you."

She obeyed, and he lost himself in the chocolate depths of her glazed eyes. She looked just as affected by this as he was, by the power of the moment, the thickness of the emotions swirling in the air around them. Then he felt her tightening, a little, and she tried to look away but couldn't. Draco saw tears in her eyes and felt them in his own, too, as his climax approached. Her nails dug into him, not to cause pain but to anchor herself.

Hermione sobbed openly. The steady rhythm of his body against hers, the soft touches, his voice whispering her name in a tangled litany of praises and hopes, it was all too much. The coil inside her was tightening, the tension was rising, and she both dreaded and desperately needed the end. And then it came, and he was rocking against her, the wall was hard behind her, she clung to him, his face was in hers, her naked body was tangled against his, and all she needed was him, _more_, she wanted him, she loved him, _please_, and her mouth opened with a little gasp.

It wasn't a noisy or dramatic orgasm – but it was a deep one, the shocks lasting through each slow, strong movement, coming in waves of pleasure she could barely handle. She rode through each one, with tears on her face, of joy or sadness, she wasn't sure which. Just as the waves were starting to slow down his thrusts became more erratic, and he came, making no sound other than a broken "_Hermione_" and her heart broke too at the sound of it, so completely she wasn't sure she'd ever be whole again.

He leant his forehead on hers for a minute, still inside her, and then rolled to lie next to her with a sigh. "Are you going?" he said wearily.

Hermione nestled against him. "In a minute," she said, her eyes already closing. "In a minute." She couldn't quite remember why she was supposed to leave him, when it felt like the best thing in the world to stay with him in this abandoned little classroom, naked and sated and in love.

* * *

**So, a short chap, all Dramione angst. And another sex scene. I know I'm pretty lousy at them, but the original reason for this fic was so I could practise and get some feedback on smut. I hope it's alright. Let me know, please?**


	19. Cry For You

_You never heard me break your heart_

_You didn't wake up when we died_

_Since I was lonely from the start_

_I think the end was mine to write._

-September

* * *

"You told her to do _what_?" Isabelle was horrified. "Draco and I had a deal, and now you've gone and broken it!"

"He already gave you the pictures, didn't he?" Astoria said stubbornly. "And he won't know I had anything to do with it. It was the right thing to do."

"The right thing…?" Isabelle echoed weakly. "Since when do you care about doing the right thing?"

Astoria shrugged a shoulder peevishly. "It's Draco. We've all bent the rules for him before."

"I haven't," Blaise objected, stifling a yawn. It was too early in the morning for this. "I think he's a jerk."

"Well, you're a moron," Astoria snapped, nettled.

"I also think the only reason you broke them up was that _you_ want Malfoy," Blaise persevered. He smiled wolfishly as Astoria looked away. Their truce of the past week or so seemed to have absolutely vanished – mainly because Blaise was more than a little annoyed that Draco was still the first person thought of by both Isabelle and Astoria. After all, Malfoy had left, but Blaise was still here. You'd think there would be some appreciation for that.

Isabelle raised an eyebrow at Astoria's guilty reaction. "Mmm. It would appear the moron has a point."

"And a _name_," Blaise interjected. "I have a _name_, too. I'm just saying." Both girls ignored him.

"I'm not trying to get him back, I'm trying to protect him," Astoria defended herself. "She'd ruin him."

There was a pause. Isabelle studied her friend intensively, trying to determine her motives. "Do you love him?" she said finally, in a much softer tone of voice.

Astoria hesitated, really thinking. "I… no. I don't know. Not like she does, anyway. The mudblood is willing to give up everything for him. Not to have him, just to help him. I don't love him like that."

"Of course not," Isabelle said, like it was obvious. "Slytherins don't love like that."

"How do Slytherins love, then, oh Mighty Expert On All Things?" Astoria raked a hand through her hair, clearly frustrated.

"Selfishly," Isabelle said. "A Slytherin loves selfishly. We love with lust and darkness and chaos. We don't do simple, we don't do nice, and we don't do what's best for the other person. Slytherins don't love as much as they _want_. And if you want Malfoy, take him."

* * *

Half the castle away, the girl who occupied their conversation was trying to get dressed. It was proving very difficult, though, since her dress seemed to be in several pieces and a silent _Reparo_ had proved ineffective. It would probably work if Hermione said it out loud, but that might wake Draco – and she'd rather walk all the way back to Gryffindor House naked than wake Draco right now. It had been hard enough detaching herself from him earlier.

He looked ethereal in the small amounts of light available – lines of light caressing the firm contours of his face, sliding down his long eyelashes, making his body glow. She wanted to touch him, more than anything. Kiss him. Hug him. Hold him. Stay with him. But that was the one thing she wasn't allowed to do.

_He'll hate you for this_. An echo of Astoria's statement drifted through her mind. He would, of course, but which 'this'? Loving him, or leaving him? Was going really any better than staying? Was she a coward running from her own feelings or a saint making a noble sacrifice?

It was for him, Hermione felt comforted by that fact. However empty it all seemed now – it was for him. Didn't everything always come back to Draco?

He'd started this whole thing. Hermione felt an unreasonable burst of anger in her chest as she stood there staring at him. _He started this_, she thought furiously, _He wanted me, so he got me. His fault. And the fact that I love him, that's _his_ fault too, so then it's also his fault that I love him too much to wreck his life! If he'd just stayed away…_

Hermione felt her lips twitch into a humourless smile as she realised she was missing the days when she'd been single and Ron had been torturing her with that blonde girl, because that had seemed far less painful than this. She didn't even want to imagine what it would be like when Draco got his own blonde girl. Or, worse, what if it was Astoria, someone who actually did have a deep connection with Draco?

That would be unbearable. She'd have to leave Hogwarts. She wanted to weep just thinking about it – Draco, touching someone else like he touched her…

_Angst, I'm angsting, I have to stop doing that._ Hermione had the experience of seven years of friendship with Harry which told her that no matter how justified, a person who perpetually anguished was not much fun to be around. Though she did miss Harry – his jokes, his rages, his sulks, his abysmal essays, his obsession with Quidditch. Hermione suspected they would make up in the next few days though. On Isabelle's urging, if what she'd overheard was anything to go by. All she'd have to do would be to tell him it had been a huge mistake and she was sorry. Harry was very forgiving. Of her, anyway.

Draco shifted in his sleep. He was smiling slightly, Hermione noticed. Maybe he was dreaming. Of her? Unlikely, but she chose to think so.

On impulse, Hermione grabbed a piece of her dress and wrapped it around herself toga style. The other ones she laid gently over Draco as makeshift blankets – it was a good thing Ginny had chosen a long dress. Then she folded his clothes neatly and put them beside him. After that, she did a series of spells on the door so that no one would walk in on Draco.

It was when she started doing a series of cleaning spells that Hermione realised her excuses to stay had gotten ridiculous. With a last look at Draco, clinging to the piece of material wrapped around herself, Hermione exited the room.

And walked immediately into Hannah Abbott. "Oh!"

"_Hermione?_" Hannah's eyes went huge, taking in Hermione state of undress. Both girls flushed. "Why… what are you…why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Hannah," Hermione said crisply, trying to retain some dignity. She tried to remember that she was Head Girl, and therefore in a way Hannah's superior. She didn't answer to Hannah. Even though she was semi-naked.

Hannah stared at her. "Are… are you okay? You look…" Hannah fumbled her words. "…_Different_."

Hannah could have meant that Hermione had different hair, or didn't normally go around wearing a single scrap of material over her underwear. She could have meant that Hermione had more shaped eyebrows than she had a few weeks ago. She could have been observing that Hermione was taller than she used to be, or less pushy, or more curvy, or more graceful and sensual in the way she walked and behaved. She could have meant any of those.

Hermione knew that wasn't what she meant, though. As soon as she'd walked out the door and left Draco, her insides had gone numb. Like she'd left her soul, her emotions, in the room with Draco. She felt strange and cold and, above all, empty. She was impressed Hannah could see that – that where Hermione had been, was now a robot. Robo-Hermione. "I'm fine," Hermione said shortly. "What are you doing here, Hannah?"

Hannah straightened, trying to look dignified too. "Visiting a friend. You?"

"I… the same," Hermione turned to leave. She was aware that this rumour would quickly make the rounds, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

But before she could leave, Hannah blurted out, "Actually, I need to talk to you. About Dr – Malfoy. Listen -"

Hermione whirled around. "You don't know anything about Draco and me, so don't even try."

"I know _lots_ about Draco," Hannah stressed, the expression on her face making it very clear what she meant. She looked slightly sick, and also slightly guilty. "We… we were…a few weeks ago…"

"_Oh_," Hermione said. She couldn't think of anything else to say. Now she felt sick too.

"We had sex a few times," Hannah said, her face going practically puce with humiliation. "And, and I need to warn you. He's not… he's not a good guy, Hermione."

"You don't have a clue," Hermione said, her insides freezing now. Pain lanced through her heart. "Not a clue."

"No, listen! I… he didn't even remember my _name_," Hannah said. "And Lavender said he didn't even spend a whole night with her. Padma and Parvati still aren't talking to each other because of him -"

"A few weeks ago," Hermione broke in musingly. She was beyond rage and humiliation now. "Haven't you been with Terry for six months?" Hannah's face reddening still further was the only response. "Oh,Hannah. Now, I'm willing to bet Lavender made the first move, and never even asked for commitment; she's like that. Don't speak, just nod." Hannah opened her mouth, then appeared to reconsider and nodded nervously. "And for the third, I heard about the Patils, and Parvati at least deserved it. I don't know about Padma. I don't _know _Padma. I do know Draco, though, and he might be a bastard but he's a fair one." This was stretching the truth, Hermione knew, but she didn't have the patience to be accurate right now. She needed to get out of there before Draco came out.

"Oh," Hannah said, echoing Hermione's earlier comment. She swallowed anxiously. "Please… please don't tell Terry. He was a mistake, Draco was a mistake."

"Isn't he always," Hermione managed to dredge up a faint smile as she turned to leave, praying she wouldn't meet anyone else on the way back. Hannah barely heard her parting words. "But he's the best damn mistake I've made."

* * *

Blaise decided he hated his life. Or, at the very least, hated Astoria for waking him up at five that morning so he could be part of the meeting. Since that meant when he'd gone back to bed he'd overslept, and now class was in five minutes. "Your opinion is important to us," she'd said, in so saintly a tone he'd mimed vomiting. In hindsight it was very obvious she'd wanted him there so Isabelle couldn't get too angry – or as a witness if Isabelle killed her, maybe.

Blaise smiled. Hah, he would've helped Isabelle in that case. Woken at _five_ in the _morning_ to hear how important Draco bloody Malfoy was? Yes, Astoria definitely deserved a bit of murdering for that.

As if his thoughts had called the other boy into being, Draco entered the corridor he was in, heading for his own room. "Morning, Draco," Blaise said sarcastically. "Have a great day!" He would have continued, but he was stopped by the expression on Malfoy's face.

Draco didn't even bother with an even more sarcastic rejoinder, entering his room without a backwards word. Much to his surprise, this considerably alarmed Blaise. He realized Draco wasn't sauntering, or stalking, or even smirking. He was just _walking_ – clumsily, even. With no expression. Like a broken clockwork toy.

Blaise found himself backtracking, hurrying over to Malfoy's door. "Malfoy?" he said, knocking gently. "Malfoy?" Maybe he should get Isabelle. Maybe he should get Astor- no, screw her. Blaise pulled the door open.

Draco was lying on his back, on top of the covers of his bed, wearing what Blaise now realised was a full suit. As Blaise watched, he grabbed a bottle beside his bed, brought it to his mouth, and upended it.

"What's that?" Blaise was now definitely worried.

Draco turned an expressionless face towards him. His eyes were dark. "Firewhiskey."

He took another deep draught, and Blaise gaped. Merlin, he'd just downed half the bottle! Impressive, yet terrifying. "What… what are you _doing_? We have class now!"

"I feel like drinking," Draco said in a contemplative way. "So instead of class, I thought I'd drink. And then drink. And after that maybe I'd try some alcohol, just to take the edge off. Want some?"

"I know how you feel," Blaise said, striking out for normality, "It sucks to get rejected. But don't you think -"

Draco gazed at him. "How do you know I got rejected?" he said calmly.

"I – it's obvious," Blaise scrambled for an answer. It occurred to him he wasn't cut out to be a double agent. Or any kind of agent. "My point is, I know how much it hurts."

"No, you don't," said Draco, his voice suddenly harsh. "Try to imagine if you could never see the Weaselette again." Blaise opened his mouth, but Draco continued. "But worse: imagine you _had_ been seeing her. All of her. Imagine you kissed her everywhere, all over, and you argued with her and joked with her, and touched her, and slept with her. Held her. Knew her. Imagine never doing that again, and knowing someone else will get to do all that to her. Imagine her leaving, because after it all, you're still not good enough." Blaise felt a large lump appear in his throat. He couldn't even imagine… Merlin. "And now, for a last kick? Imagine you're totally, completely in love with her, and you never even told her. Because you knew she loved someone else, and now you know that every happy memory you have is a lie because she was picturing someone else."

Blaise felt his breath quite literally leave his throat. He could put this right, he suddenly knew. He could tell Draco the truth. That his mudblood stupidly did love him. He opened his mouth to say so and found himself coughing hard. "Ma -" he barely managed, before it started to feel as if someone was strangling him.

Draco watched with detached interest as Blaise collapsed, wheezing, his dark face turning purple. When the boy had finally regained control, Draco passed the firewhiskey to him. To his slight surprise, Blaise downed a reasonably amount, choking slightly as it set fire to his already-tender throat. "Feel better?" Draco said, with transparently fake sympathy.

"Yeah," Blaise said, still breathless. He had _felt_ slender hands around his throat. There must be some kind of curse on him, to prevent him from talking to Draco – how like Isabelle, to have all her bases covered. He didn't even bother trying to write it down; she would have been thorough, and he didn't want to get injured. "You know what, screw class. Do you have any more of these?"

The idea of losing Ginny was suddenly so large in his mind he couldn't see anything else. Blaise doubted that he loved her, though he did have a crush on her; but he knew she was the only real friend he'd ever had. The only one who cared.

Draco, looking at Blaise's face, pulled out two more bottles of firewhiskey. "Here you go," he said idly, as if it was nothing, and opened his own one.

* * *

It was just after lunchtime when Harry managed to track down Hermione. It seemed as if they'd been just missing each other all day – whenever he'd called out to her in the halls or tried to whisper to her in morning class, she hadn't seemed to hear him. He would've taken it personally, but she seemed an absolute wreck, so he decided it was probably the after-effects of her sickness.

"Hermione," Harry said with relief. "Have you got time to talk?" He'd found her in the library, of course, browsing through a stack of books.

Hermione turned to look at him, and for a moment she seemed so blank it was like she didn't remember who he was. Then she smiled, and said "Sure, Harry. Everything okay?"

Even Harry, who wasn't hugely observant, could see that Hermione's smile was all wrong – the angles were awkward, the smile so clearly fake she might as well have burst into tears on the spot. "I… um… everything's okay with me," he replied cautiously. "I just… I thought we could be friends again. This is dumb. Us fighting. I mean, I forgive you."

"You forgive me," Hermione echoed.

"For dating Malfoy," Harry clarified, as if it needed clarification. From the dazed look on Hermione's face, it just might. She looked, Harry thought, like someone who had been in a terrible accident, and was still in shock. "I know you're sorry."

"I'm not," Hermione said simply.

It took a moment to sink in, and then Harry did a double-take. "_What_?"

"I'm sorry for lying to you about it," Hermione patted his arm with a hand that seemed as light and dry as moth wings. There was something vaguely ghostly about Hermione, today, Harry thought with the beginnings of serious panic. She didn't seem quite… there. "But I'm not sorry for being with him. I'm allowed to date whoever I want."

Harry gaped. "But… Malfoy… he's _evil_."

"He is _not_," Hermione said sharply, showing her first piece of animation since the beginning of the conversation. "He's not evil. And I regret that it hurt you, but I'll continue to see whoever I want, whenever I want. You're not in charge of me, Harry Potter, any more than I am in charge of you."

"But… do you mean you're still _with_ him? _Malfoy_?" Harry said, revolted.

"I'm not," Hermione said, her voice going very quiet. She looked away, feeling the prick of tears in her eyes. "I just mean… I can choose who I want to be with."

"Is this about Ron?" Harry said, grasping this explanation with relief. "Because, honestly, I think he'll forgive you soon as well. And forgive _me_, for that matter. He's been acting kind of strangely lately -"

"It's not about Ron, and it's not about you," Hermione managed to force a rueful smile to her face. "I wish it was, Harry, honestly. But it's about me… me and Draco. That's all."

"But Malfoy -" Harry said, unable to let the subject go. He quietened at the glare Hermione shot him.

"I'm not the only one who's dated a Slytherin," she said, her voice dangerous. "And I've never said – _one – word_ – to you about it. The war's over, Harry, wake up. They count as people now." The last part came out with such bitter sarcasm that Harry winced.

"I'm sorry," he said automatically, looking away too. He saw a flash of red hair over by the library entrance, and his heart started beating faster. He always felt this mix of hatred and love and disgust and loneliness at the sight of Ginny. He couldn't help it.

Hermione followed his gaze. "She didn't cheat," she said bluntly, her voice full of conviction. "We've talked about it, you know. She didn't cheat, but we acted like she did anyway."

"You said you saw her!" Harry snapped back. The suddenness of the attack had stunned him.

"Yes," Hermione rolled her eyes, disgusted at herself for telling Harry what she'd seen in the first place. "And it would certainly be the _absolute first time_ someone has used Polyjuice Potion to fool us."

"I… really? You really think so?" Harry sounded highly confused.

"What I think is, she forgave me, and it's more than I deserve," Hermione said softly. She patted Harry's arm again. "More than _we _deserve. I'm glad we're friends again, Harry, and I hope you work out what you really want – and what you really believe. Merlin knows, one of us deserves some happiness. I'd better get back to Ginny."

"Bye," Harry said weakly. Part of him wanted to follow her, back to Ginny, back to _his_ Ginny, and tell her he was sorry – _no!_ Hermione might be wrong, Ginny might have cheated. She might even love Zabini, they certainly spent enough time together.

And either way, he had Isabelle. How could he have forgotten that?

* * *

"Harry forgive you?" Ginny said wryly, as Hermione plunked herself down in the nearest chair.

"Yes," Hermione said, choosing not to mention that part of their conversation had involved Ginny. She didn't want the younger girl to be disappointed if Harry chose to disregard what Hermione said. It wouldn't be the first time he'd ignored her advice, after all.

After a minute's silence, Ginny spoke again. "So, I didn't ask this morning because you seemed – kind of out of it – but how did last night go? I mean, he didn't -" Ginny trailed off.

Hermione nearly laughed when she realised what Ginny was worried about. "He didn't crucio me, imperius me, or sexually assault me – I assume one of those is what you're worried about?" Ginny nodded slightly. After all, Malfoy _was_ a former Death Eater. "Well, he didn't. He was a perfect gentleman and we parted amicably."

"Liar," Ginny said easily.

"Fine. We slept together and I ran out, and he seems to have skipped class today, probably too embarrassed to face me," Hermione bit out. "Or maybe he's spending time with _Hannah_ or _Lavender_ or God forbid _Astoria_. One of his many past girlfriends. His _girls_."

"I never saw him act like he had other girls when he was with you," Ginny remarked. "I never even saw him look at another person when he was with you." Ginny stopped, horrified, as Hermione started to silently weep. "Mione – I didn't mean to – I'm _so _sorry -" _I guess that Ron wasn't the only member of the family to get the 'tactless' gene,_ Ginny thought as she started to comfort her friend, ignoring the avid gazes of everyone else in the library.

* * *

"You know, drinking is like a… like a… thing with horns on," Draco said eventually. His silver eyes were unfocused and he was playing noughts and crosses against Blaise using his wand on the wall. So far there were eight crosses and no noughts, but both of them were too drunk to notice.

"True," Blaise agreed heartily, dragging his wand across the last square to leave another cross. "Another win, ha! It's a tie again!"

"My start," Draco announced, shaking his wand at the wall, which immediately lost all the crosses as they started again. "Have you noticed I always win when I start? Iss _lucky_!"

"You're drunk," Blaise observed sapiently. As a matter of fact, if Blaise had been sober he would have been amazed at how drunk Draco was, especially considering his reputation for being able to handle his drink. However, a nearly lethal dose of firewhiskey seemed to have left him reeling. "It, it's a _deer_."

Draco frowned. "What's dear?"

"A deer! With horns!"

"I don't… what?"

"Drinking is," Blaise proclaimed grandly, "Like a deer. With horns."

"No it's not," Draco frowned again. He could still feel the sorrow beneath the giddiness, beating against him in time with his heart. In time with her name. _Hermione… Hermione… Hermione… _"It's… something else with horns on."

"A rhino?" Draco shook his head. "A cow? A pineapple? A hedgehog? _What_?" Blaise waved his hands in frustration.

"A bull," Draco realised. "That's what it was, a bull. Drinking is a load of bull, that's what I meant. It's meant to make you forget but it doesn't."

"It makes you forget?" Blaise asked in amazement. "I'd forgotten it was supposed to do that! Well, I haven't forgotten anything! Ginny's still hot and I'm still drunk. See, perfect mem'ry!"

"Hermione's hotter," Draco countered sadly. "And even if she wasn't, I wouldn't care."

"What if she got fat?" Blaise pointed out. "Uh? Fat?"

"I wouldn't care," Draco took another swig and glared at the bottle. Damn it, he'd run out _again_. "Because she's funny and smart and kind and perfect. And her eyes, oh god, like melted chocolate. How long have we been here?"

"Forever," Blaise said solemnly, "Since the world went kablooie and we all got born. My grandma got born, and then my mum got born, and then I got born. You probably got born sometime too," he conceded kindly.

"No, I mean drinking, how long have we been drinking?" Draco tipped the bottle sadly. Nothing came out.

"Since eight," Blaise said promptly. "See? Perfect memory! And you're last name is Malfoy, and I always lose my socks, and Ginny has red hair. See? _Perfect memory_!"

"Shut up," Draco said, not unkindly. "Gimme a second." He got up and staggered over to his dresser, picking up the watch that lay there. "Arrgh, it's four, we've been here less thanfour hours." He considered his maths. "Or more than four hours. I don't know. I'm sleepy."

"Me too," Blaise agreed, not even noticing the abrupt change of subject. Staggering and leaning on each other, they managed to make it to the four-poster, where they both collapsed drunkenly. "No funny business though."

Suddenly they both heard the creak of the door. Draco cast a quick spell that removed all light from the room. He didn't want to get in trouble – wait, was it four in the morning or the afternoon? Were they allowed to be awake? He was so confused. "Shhh," he whispered, just in case.

"Draco? Are you okay?" A feminine voice drifted over. It was very nearly a purr. "I know you've been in here all day, and I thought you could use some – cheering up." She managed to pick her way through the room in the darkness. The girl slid into the bed, running her hand up Blaise's leg and under his pants. She lay down next to him, completely unaware she was lying between Draco and Blaise in the dark. "I know you're lonely," she whispered, leaning in to kiss Blaise.

"Very," Draco said, highly amused.

Hearing the voice of the man she'd assumed she was kissing come from behind her, Astoria let out a decidedly loud scream and fell off the bed. "What the… what…" she stuttered.

Now even more amused, despite the persistent, tragic beat of Hermione against his heart, Draco smirked. "You know, I appreciate the thought, but it's always best to _ask_ before you set up a threesome. Because Zabini really isn't my type."

"_Zabini_?" Astoria scrambled away, looking horrified, as Draco lit the lamps again with his wand. Blaise smiled and gave her a little wave.

"I'm lonely too," he said, more out of amusement than for any particular desire for Astoria right now. Though he noticed she was extremely attractive in her black lingerie.

Astoria glared at him. "Shut up! Just… shut up!"

"Yes ma'am," Blaise said, grinning. "Are you always this bossy in bed?"

"Why are you… are you two…" Astoria seemed to be beyond words right now, still lying on the floor.

Draco covered a yawn. "Yes, I was so hurt by Hermione's departure I turned gay." He smirked again. Blaise realised, with a trace of annoyance, that only Draco could get away with saying things like that and have no chance of it being taken seriously. You had to be unbelievably straight to act like that.

"No, we got drunk," Blaise said hurriedly. "And I can't get up. _And_ Draco won at naughts and crosses," he added as an afterthought.

"And I want my bed back," Draco said haughtily, as if Astoria was a maid. "Please take him away from here."

After staring at Draco in amazement for a few moments, Astoria grabbed Blaise's arm and dragged him forcibly out of the room. "What the hell is _wrong_ with him?" she fumed. "He's never gotten drunk before!" she wheeled to face the stumbling Blaise, who could barely keep up with her. "Did you put something in his drink?" Blaise's gormless face answered her question. "Right. Right."

"He loves her," Blaise said, remembering that this was important for some reason. "He does."

"He _what_?"

"He loves Hermione," Blaise sang. "And she loves him, and we know, so we can tell. We can make it alllll right!"

Astoria stood for a second, lost in thought. "No," she declared abruptly. "No, we can't tell. He'll hate me for breaking them up…"

"Don't you care about him?" Blaise said, practically falling over as he tried to lean against a wall.

"You heard Isabelle," Astoria said grimly. "Slytherins love selfishly. And I have no desire to see Draco become a Gryffindor's plaything. He doesn't know any of us had anything to do with the break-up, otherwise he'd have done something already. And that's how it's going to stay."

"I agree," Isabelle said, somehow materialising. Blaise gasped and actually did fall over this time. "You want Draco, I don't want Draco to be poor, and I don't like that mudblood at all. I've already got the photos, so let's just… call it a day. The deal is done. It's over. They're over."

In the half-darkness, to a drunk Blaise, her eyes held an evangelical gleam that scared him. "There's only," she said quietly, "The plan left to finish."

* * *

**And Harry takes the lead in the poll on my profile! If you have any kind of opinion, please join in, since Blaise and Harry have been neck and neck for Ginny's love since the start. I'm tempted to return to my old threat of Kingsley Shacklebolt. :)**

**Sorry about the wait, I went back to college and now I'm so busy that 'Go to class' is still on my to-do list (hah, just kidding, that's never on my to-do list). But anyway, sooner or later I'll run out of vodka and the updates will come faster. Please give your opinion!**


	20. Lose It In The End

_Yeah, I cared too much again_

_You stared too much at him_

_And this must be a sin_

_I always lose it in the end._

- Mark Robson

* * *

"Well if it isn't Draco Malfoy's _whore_," a voice sang out from behind Hermione as she hurried to class after lunch.

Swinging round automatically, she felt a wave of relief that the taunter was unfamiliar to her – for a second she'd honestly wondered if it was Ron. A brief conversation with Harry at breakfast had revealed Ron was MIA. From all accounts, no one but Carly had seen him for days. Apparently, he still hated them all, even refusing to see Ginny because she and Hermione were friends again. His behaviour was so – well, un-Ron – that it would have worried Hermione deeply if she had the energy right now to care. As it was, she was leaving that problem to Harry while she dealt with the aftermath of her split from Draco.

Hermione wouldn't have believed it possible, but somehow on Wednesday everything had gotten worse.

Draco was in every corridor, in the corner of her eye, sitting near her in every class; even the ones he didn't have with her. She smelt his scent while eating breakfast and whipped her head around so fast she nearly dislocated her neck – Ginny was kind enough not to mention it. There seemed to be a million people with blonde hair or grey eyes or pale skin. When she woke up in the morning she thought she heard him laughing outside her door – but when she pulled it open, there was no one there.

She started considering asking him whether they could be _friends_, even though she knew any attempt would kill her. The fire lit between them couldn't be doused like that, couldn't be _eased_ like it had been with Ron. It was a physical pain to see him, to want him. The vague memory of her dreams lead her to believe they had been filled with wandering hands and kisses and arguing voices.

Hermione felt like she was made of wet paper, sodden and wrecked. She'd spent three weeks with Draco, only three weeks, and they'd contained so much emotion it stunned her – furious fights, passionate love-making, tragic sadness, and overpowering love. It felt like she'd finally experienced colour and was now returning to a world of monochrome.

She was, in other words, a wreck. By lunchtime she was so frustrated – even though she suspected she hadn't seen the _real_ Draco all day – that she honestly thought about seducing him just for the momentary closeness. Hermione couldn't tell – would that be wrong because it was cruel and selfish and would hurt him, or wrong because it was cruel and selfish and would hurt her?

She was thinking through porridge. She was an absolute mess. She was utterly lost, and couldn't begin to understand how he had managed to become so essential to her.

And now this bratty Slytherin in front of her was _laughing_ about it.

"You heard me," the stout boy said rudely. "Slut, slut, slut!" The boy's friends joined in the chant, grinning. Students passing by started turning to look.

Hermione closed her eyes briefly, asking for patience. "I will give you detention if you don't stop that _right now_. Shut up!" She glared at the boy, who she estimated to be a sixth-or-seventh-year.

He flung up his hands in mock terror. "Aargh! Will you… _punish _me?" His gang fell into howls of laughter at his weak innuendo, and Hermione wanted them all dead.

She shot them another, even fiercer glare, and was surprised when they paled. She must look absolutely terrifying. Then she realised they were looking behind her. Slowly, she turned round, to find herself face-to-face with Draco, who was lazily pointing his wand at the boys.

"I suggest you follow her advice," he said, flicking a strand of white-blonde hair out of his face in a carelessly familiar gesture that hurt Hermione's heart. "Now scurry off, why don't you."

They immediately obeyed. "Thanks," Hermione said, refusing to look at Draco. It felt safer not to.

"You're welcome," Draco replied. Hermione looked up, expecting him to add something else, only to see his back disappearing into a classroom.

* * *

Isabelle sighed. "Blaise, what are you _doing_ here? Shouldn't you be cosying up to the Weasel girl?"

"She's with Granger," Blaise said doggedly. "She's always with Granger, now, and Granger doesn't like me. She suspects me."

"And I'm certain that by acting twitchy and terrified you are setting her suspicions at ease," Isabelle said with flawless sarcasm. "Why are you _here_, though?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Blaise plopped down in a chair and stared at Isabelle. "About Draco." They both registered the use of his first name.

"Merlin save me from male bonding," Isabelle didn't look up from the essay she was doing. The scratching of her quill seemed to make Blaise even edgier. "What about _Draco_?"

Blaise grasped for his point. "He, he loves Granger and she loves him. I know you said – but this is just _wrong_."

"You're such a romantic," Isabelle seemed dryly amused by this thought. "It's not the same sort of love, Blaise."

"What do you mean?"

"She doesn't know anything about love, not anything. She _thinks_ she loves him. She also thought that for the Weasel… you see, Gryffindors see love as this great happy ending. No blood or sweat or tears, which is all the kind of love Draco knows." Isabelle raised her head from the parchment to stare at Blaise. "Granger's idea of love is puppies and kittens and summertime, Draco's is pain and sex and disappointment and the edge of hatred. It's like comparing night and day."

"You don't _know_ that," Blaise said stubbornly.

"Tell me you don't think he's dark," challenged Isabelle. "Compared to her. I did my research before this plan, you know. We're doing what's best for him. He's already invested enough – he can't afford to care more. Let it _go_, Blaise, I know what I'm doing. Since when did you become so moral anyway?"

The honest answer was, _I'm not_. Blaise wasn't particularly moral – he was a good actor, one of the nicer Slytherins, who'd gotten involved in this scheme for free sex, and now wanted Draco to get a happy ending purely for his own vicarious enjoyment. And also as a kind of proof - maybe if Draco could get Granger, he'd have a chance with Ginny. And he did care about Ginny. Some of her morality seemed to be seeping into him, a little, as if her honest friendship was making him re-evaluate everything he knew.

Isabelle surveyed Blaise's worried face and sighed again. Honestly, it was so hard to get good help these days. She considered just letting him go – but then what if she needed his help again at some point? "All right," she said finally, considering her options. "I'll think about it. That's all, though."

* * *

"Ron! Just let me _in_!" Ginny hit the door again, feeling more than a little angry. "I have a letter from Mum for you!" It was at the end of classes for the day, and still no one had seen Ron. The teachers said they'd gotten a note saying he was sick. Thankfully, Ginny had this letter as an excellent excuse to disturb her brother.

Ginny knew it was probably a scathing condemnation of Hermione Granger's personality – after all, Molly Weasley had been angry enough at Hermione for having a relationship with Krum and 'betraying' Harry four years ago, Merlin knew how badly she'd react to her highly-publicised affair with Draco Malfoy. For nearly a week the papers had been full of it – ignoring the absolute lack of pictures, evidence, or witnesses, because a story as juicy as that didn't really need proof.

Ginny, like the rest of her family, was aware of how much Ron fancied Hermione, but unlike her mother placed the blame squarely on Ron for the failure of their relationship to ever get off the ground. Well, and Carly.

Carly appeared at the door, semi-dressed. Ginny's eyes bulged when she recognised bite marks and hickeys around the other girl's neck and shoulders, as well as what appeared to be finger-shaped bruises on her arms. Okay, ewww. "I'm sorry, my Dalmatian is busy right now," she said brightly. "Plus, he hates you."

"I'm his sister, let me in," Ginny glared at Carly and crossed her arms. "I'll curse you if you don't."

"You betrayed him," said Carly, in a sanctimonious way. "Why would he want to see you? Everybody's betrayed my Dalmatian recently, and he's awfully sad."

Her little-girl voice made Ginny wince. "Oh, for goodness sake, we haven't _betrayed_ him. And could you put some clothes on? I really don't need to see that much -"

"I've never had a threesome with a brother and sister before," Carly said thoughtfully.

Ginny nearly threw up right on the spot, but then realised what Carly was doing. "You hate me, you don't want to see me naked. You're trying to disgust me so I'll go away, aren't you? Sometimes I think you're smarter than anyone thinks you are."

Carly smirked. "Maybe. I certainly know more about what's going on than you do, anyway. With Harry Potter and Zabini and Mulciber -"

She stopped suddenly, and it took Ginny a moment to figure out why. Somehow Ginny's wand had ended up in her hand and she was pointing it at the blonde. "_What_ do you know?" Ginny ground out.

Carly looked apprehensively behind her, checking whether Ron was still asleep or not, and then stepped out of the room completely. "I know there's something going on, that's all."

Carly's eyes were very shifty. "You know more than that," Ginny said with certainty. "Tell me."

"Not going to happen," Carly suddenly sounded more grown up. "I can tell you this, though: Zabini's very good in bed. You should definitely give him a try."

With that, Carly stepped neatly back into Ron's room and slammed the door. Ginny, stunned, heard the click of the lock. What had _that_ meant? _Blaise wouldn't sleep with her. Not when… maybe it was last year._ The idea still disgusted Ginny.

"Ron!" she started again, hitting the door.

"Give up," Harry advised from behind her. "I did that for an hour yesterday, and all I got were bruises on my hands and some very gross suggestions from his girlfriend. Who he swore he was going to break up with weeks ago. I think maybe she, er, did _something _to change his mind." The slight disgust in Harry's voice made it clear what he thought had happened.

Ginny spun around to see him. Harry's face was tired, his glasses leaving dents around his eyes, and his hair was unbelievably messy. "Harry…" It was the first time they'd spoken since they'd broken up, and Ginny found she had no idea what to say. Her fingers itched to straighten his glasses and stroke his face, but she couldn't tell if that was leftover affection or still-current love. "I…are you talking to me again?"

"Yeah, I guess so," he said, straightforward. "Listen… it doesn't really matter what happened when we broke up, does it?" His green eyes flickered a little. "We've both moved on… there's no reason to be enemies, is there, really?"

"So you want to be what? Friends?" Ginny couldn't help a little spurt of laughter at that idea. "We're not cut out to be friends, Harry, not with everything that happened."

"We don't have to be _friends_," Harry's face twisted a little. "I just don't want to be enemies either. I think I've had enough enemies," he added with an attempt at a smile.

Ginny couldn't help a small smile in return. "We're not enemies. We never were."

"We weren't?" Harry's eyebrows rose. "But I thought… don't you hate me? Isabelle said -"

"I don't talk to Isabelle anymore," Ginny snapped, angry again.

"No, I know, but she said you've been giving lots of interviews to the papers," Harry looked a little confused. "About me. Ones with really personal stuff."

"So you thought you'd come and make friends with me so I'd stop it?" Ginny couldn't help a nasty little laugh. "How _nice_ of you, Harry. For your information I haven't said a _single word_ to any newspaper or magazine, and I don't intend to. Isabelle was _lying_."

"She was mistaken," Harry snapped, "That's not the same thing. There have been some pretty nasty articles out, with personal details about our relationship, it's not surprising she thought they must have come from you."

"Defending your _girlfriend_?" Ginny taunted, feeling a twinge in her heart. "Has it occurred to you she might have spilled whatever you told her about us?"

"I haven't told her _anything_ about our relationship," Harry flared, "Except that it's over, of course! Maybe _Zabini_ is the one who's been spilling what you've told him!"

"He wouldn't!"

"Defending your _boyfriend_?" Harry instantly yelled back. There was a pause as they both stared at each other, breathing hard. Ginny's small, pert breasts moved up and down, and her face was flushed. Her light brown eyes were fixed fiercely on Harry's emerald ones. They were so close he could feel the warmth coming off ever inch of her taut body. Harry wondered distantly what she'd do if he kissed her, right here. Then sanity returned. He coughed, stepping back. "Wait here a moment, okay?"

The forced calm of Harry's request jolted Ginny out of her anger. "All right."

He returned in less than three minutes, and passed her a paper. "That's why I thought you must have been talking to reporters, or at least mailing them information about us."

Ginny scanned the piece. Like all of them, it sided with the Chosen One, but Harry was right in that there were a lot of personal details that no one besides the two of them could have known. "Wow." It mentioned how Ginny used to say she wasn't ready to get serious, some of the events of last year, how both of them were virgins, even how Hermione had been the one to tell Harry about the kiss. The last one triggered something in Ginny. "Hermione."

"What?" Harry caught the paper as she passed it over, then let it go again as Ginny tugged it back, apparently reconsidering.

"I have to go talk to Hermione," Ginny gabbled. "But I swear it wasn't me who told them all this stuff, okay?"

* * *

Hermione entered her room to grab a book and found Ginny sitting on her bed, holding a highlighter in her mouth as she scribbled with two others. "Ginny? What are you doing?"

"Thethe are fathkinatin!" Ginny flushed as she heard her words and spat out the highlighter. "Sorry, I'm just really impressed. What are these things?"

"Highlighters?" said Hermione, completely lost.

"High lighters," Ginny repeated happily. "Oh, they're just -" suddenly Ginny remembered why she was here. "Sorry, I came to find you, and got sort of distracted. I've been colouring in this paper."

"Highlighting it," Hermione corrected absentmindedly. She scanned the paper just as Ginny had done half an hour before, eyes widening. "This is… who told them all this stuff? Is all this true?"

"Yes," Ginny said, taking it back and adding another line of purple to it.

"But I don't even know some of this! Is this Harry? Or Isabelle? Did you -" Hermione began.

"That's what I'm working out," Ginny interrupted. "Harry swears he hasn't told them anything, and he hasn't told _her_ anything either. So I've chosen a colour for each person I've told these things to. Purple for the stuff I've told Blaise, green for what I told Isabelle when we were still friends, and yellow for what I haven't told either about, that must be Harry's doing." She sniffed. If Hermione noticed she was physically upset about acknowledging Blaise might not be on her side, she chose not to comment.

"Pass it here," Hermione said, starting to get a bad feeling. She looked at the yellow lines and closed her eyes in shame. "That's what I told Draco."

"_What_?"

"The yellow lines are what I told Draco, back then," Hermione repeated leadenly. "And since together those three colours make up the whole article, I guess we definitely know they're all working together. Isabelle, Zabini, and… Draco."

"And that means Harry really hasn't told Isabelle anything about us," Ginny realised. Then she went back to the earlier point. "You told _Malfoy_ things about me and Harry? _Why_?"

"There – there was wine, and we were talking about friends, and," Hermione said helplessly. "Gin, I'm _so sorry_."

Ginny took a deep breath, and then waved it off. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. I mean, I spilled my guts to two Slytherins, you spilled yours to one. You're still up on points," she added as a lame attempt at humour.

"I really thought it wasn't part of a plan," Hermione whispered, staring at the article. "I thought… I thought he cared…"

"Maybe somebody was eavesdropping," Ginny suggested.

Hermione tried to muster a smile for Ginny. This year had given her a whole new appreciation for how strong and selfless her friend was – that after being hurt by virtually everyone, she would still concentrate on Hermione's problems over her own. "Maybe," she agreed, a little tearfully. "Maybe Isabelle was eavesdropping on Blaise as well, you never know."

"Yeah," Ginny said. Seeing the disbelief on her face, Hermione leant forward and enveloped her in a hug. After a moment, she pulled away, and dropped a light kiss on her forehead.

"It'll all work out in the end," Hermione promised her, "I know it will. And in the meantime, I have a plan."

* * *

Astoria knew she was hiding behind a lie. It wasn't Slytherins who loved selfishly, it was _her_ who loved selfishly. Part of her wanted Draco to be happy but a far larger part wanted to have him as he always had been – as amoral, capricious and promiscuous as she was.

She didn't exactly _love_ Draco, not like she imagined love anyway. It was more that in her mind he was unchangeable, a rock in her wild world. He'd been tempestuous and cruel since the childhood they'd shared, and she honestly couldn't imagine him changing.

That was why she'd been okay with his relationship with Granger at first, even when she could see he cared. Astoria didn't mind if he loved the girl, so long as loving her didn't make him a different person. She assumed eventually he'd lose interest in Granger and be exactly the same as before.

Instead, Astoria had seen the icy parts of him melting, seen him discover new sides to himself. The old Draco would have carelessly moved on, screwing around after his break-up with the Gryffindor. This new Draco – well, he would never fit into the future Astoria had planned for herself. He could never settle for a marriage with lust and liking instead of love. She'd kept an eye on Draco for years, kept up an easy relationship of sex and banter and light affection, on the assumption that someday they'd get married, and she couldn't imagine a different future anymore.

Astoria had simple requirements – the right to do whatever and whoever she wanted – that marriage to Draco would have given her. Without him, her parents would make her marry someone else, who would probably insist on fidelity and multiple children. Maybe he'd have less house-elves than the Malfoys and she'd have to do work. He might not have inherited his family home yet and Astoria would have to live in an apartment. He might even be ugly.

Her simple assumption that she would end up with the rich, handsome, morally lax and skilled-in-bed Draco Malfoy meant that whatever happened, the new person would be a disappointment. Honestly, Astoria admitted to herself that it wasn't Draco who she loved – she loved the future, the life the old Draco would have given her. Sex with as many people as she wanted, wild parties, minimum responsibilities, and an endless pocket to reach into. And Draco, as well, sleeping with him frequently, laughing at other people with him, ignoring his numerous affairs as he ignored hers.

And Astoria couldn't help believing that if he just gave up on the mudblood, she could have the life she'd always planned back.

* * *

Hermione was currently following Isabelle. At first, Ginny had wanted to come along, but then realised two people would be much easier to notice than one. Then Ginny had wanted to go instead of Hermione, until it was pointed out to her that if she was caught she would look like a psychotic bunny-boiler ex.

Following Isabelle was not a particularly good plan. Hermione could admit that. It probably would have been a better plan if she could have borrowed the Invisibility Cloak from Harry but she hadn't been able to think up a good excuse. Harry probably would have assumed that she was going to go have sex with Draco, and there was a humiliating conversation Hermione never wanted to have.

It might be a crappy plan, but it was all she had. Ginny and Hermione desperately needed information, whatever they could get. Was Ron a victim in this plan? Was Carly on the same team as Isabelle? What about Draco and Blaise? Who were the bad guys? Isabelle was the only one they knew for sure, hence the plan to follow her.

So far, Isabelle's life was boring even to Hermione. Semi-hidden under the Disillusionment Charm, Hermione had watched her do an essay, sit around in a hidden classroom staring at the wall blankly, and now finally she seemed to be doing some kind of Potions work. Hermione couldn't recognise the potion, though, from her place behind the bookshelf.

"Isabelle?" Astoria came into the room and glanced around, seeing no one else. "I wanted to talk to you." _Jackpot!_ Hermione thought.

"Oh, not you as well as Blaise," Isabelle said with fine scorn. Hermione winced – oh, poor Ginny. _But maybe he was talking to her about… class work, or something. Tutoring her? Yelling at her for hurting Ginny, even?_

"It's not about that," Astoria insisted. "I just want to know what's up. You haven't gotten me to do anything recently."

"You've become an obstruction to the plan," Isabelle said quietly. "You don't follow orders."

Astoria flushed. "_One_ time, that's all. I still want to be in on the game – I'm bored." It was more than that, of course. Astoria didn't want to lose her best friend – for a girl like her, it was something close to a miracle to find female friends.

Isabelle laughed coldly. "Of course you are. Run out of boys, have you?"

"Uncalled for!"

"You're right," Isabelle added a pair of beetle wings to her potions. "I trust you, Astoria, it's just that there's nothing for you to do at this particular point. Except maybe make sure Blaise doesn't do anything spectacularly dumb. Could you grab me some mugwort?"

"Sure," Astoria came round to the bookshelf. Hermione gasped, her panicked eyes fastening on the mugwort directly behind her. She had nowhere to go. She was completely trapped –

A solid arm appeared out of a nearby painting, literally coming through it, and pulled her inside. Apparently it was an illusory painting. Inhaling to let out a scream, Hermione recognised the scent and relaxed. _Draco_.

"Guess I'm not the only curious one," Draco breathed out, his voice so quiet Hermione had to strain to hear. She found that visibility was perfect – she could see Astoria cluelessly grab the mugwort and return to Isabelle.

"There must be something I can do," Astoria pleaded. "Come on, Iz."

Isabelle thought about it. "Well, there is something pretty big going down tomorrow with Weasley and Potter." Hermione strained her ears. "Actually, there is something you can do." Isabelle poured the potion into a container.

"I don't have to work with Minion Number Two, do I?" Astoria smiled gratefully. She really didn't want to lose Isabelle.

Hermione found it hard to concentrate with her back pressed against Draco's solid chest, his arm around her. He was inspiring deliciously wicked thoughts about the things they could do here without anyone seeing, but at the same time she just wanted to turn around and hug him. _I never thought I'd be this close to you again… let alone just two days after we broke up. _And also, if he was spying on Isabelle, that meant he wasn't in cahoots with them, which thrilled her.

"Only if you want to," Isabelle responded gravely to Astoria's question. "I've noticed that spark between you." They both got up, as if in sync, Isabelle stowing the container in her bag.

Astoria made a sort of squawking noise at the thought of that. "Yeah, right. Really, what's happening?"

Hermione made to follow them out of the room, but was stopped as Isabelle closed the door behind her. If there was no one in the corridor, the door opening would attract the girls' attention and Hermione would get caught. She had to wait long enough for them to have left the corridor and then they could be anywhere. Hermione swore.

"Language, language," Draco drawled. He stepped out of the hidden little alcove, trying to avoid looking directly at Hermione. Her Disillusionment Charm made that much easier.

Looking at her confused him. The dizzying mix of emotions inside him made every moment with her hard. Despite what he'd said to Zabini, he didn't know for sure that he did love her. It was all so complex, for him.

Draco suspected that for Gryffindors – for normal people – things were simpler. Look at Hermione – she could say "Ginny is my friend" or "I love Ron" with such absolute certainty. Like saying the sky was blue. Her feelings, neatly categorised and undeniable. For him relationships were more… fluid. He never knew what he was thinking or feeling about a person at any given time. For example, Lucius. If pressed, Draco supposed he would say he loved his father – and admired him, hated him, respected him, despised him, wanted to be him and never wanted to see him again. How could Draco truly say he loved someone with any certainty when he'd never been taught what love really was?

He'd never had any real friends, either, just lackeys like Goyle and rivals like Isabelle. They were the closest he could get to the normality other people seemed to possess. Then there were people he verbally sparred with, like Astoria, who he didn't consider rivals but also didn't consider friends. And obviously the girls he screwed, who could fall into any category from 'complete contempt' like the Patil girl to 'lazy affection' like Astoria.

No, Draco could never tell his own emotions, really. Not what they were, anyway. He could tell the strength of them, though, and Hermione was easily a twenty out of ten compared to his normal easy indifference.

"Sorry," she said, looking at him breathlessly. "Thanks, that's the second time you've rescued me today. I guess I owe you." Hermione cringed as she realised what she'd said.

She expected him to respond badly, welcomed it even. Any response would be nice. He could say something nasty and she would burst into tears and then he would comfort her, showing her the inner sweetness he hid so well; he could say something _really_ nasty and she'd answer back furiously and they'd get into a huge fight that would be ended with either a shut-up kiss or a slap; he could make a light response and they would return to their bantering style; he could even just pull her into a hug; he could taunt her or touch her or hurt her feelings or possibly even make her laugh. He was unpredictable in nature but she knew him, and she loved him, and any of those were possible to her. What wasn't expected was the absolute blankness in his face – she did not exist to him. It was like stepping onto a stair that wasn't there. She'd expected passion, of whatever kind, but she was getting indifference. And indifference was so much worse.

Draco's mask of carelessness was the best he could manage. Merlin, why did she have to say something like that? Didn't she realise how tempting it was to say… something, anything. But he couldn't say anything. The Weasel stood between them. And honestly, how could he love someone who loved that moron? He must have rocks in his head.

"Goodbye," he said finally. He left the room. He did not look back.

* * *

"I don't know if Carly will listen to me," Astoria warned Isabelle.

Isabelle shrugged. "Just tell her you're trying to get one over on me. She'll believe that. Besides, she's wanted this chance for ages, she can't afford to pass it up."

"Are you sure Potter will follow your advice?"

"Oh, yes, he will," Isabelle smiled. "I've been slipping Will-Sapping Potion into his drinks for the past week, I'm amazed he has enough resolve to do anything on his own."

"So it's all set up, then," Astoria grinned. "Impressive. The Weasel will never get over this."

Isabelle crooked an ironic eyebrow. "No pangs of conscience?"

"You know I don't care what we do to blood-traitors, mudbloods or half-bloods," Astoria said arrogantly. "Or, especially, Gryffindors. Morality is a dirty word."

"You are a puzzle, Astoria," Isabelle remarked lightly. "I think that's why I like you so much. So loyal and yet…"

"Such a bitch?" Astoria supplied. "I could say the same about you. You clearly care about Draco, even though he's playing for the other team now."

"Now we are all sons of bitches," Isabelle quoted, then shook her head at Astoria's look. "It's nothing. Just something I read once. You know, Draco once said I was like a sister to him. Brothers and sisters fight. I'll still care about him anyway. Just like you will."

_All the way into hell_, Isabelle remembered. That's what Draco had said. Clearly he hadn't meant it, but she still valued the thought. She knew, in the end, he would always side with her. Like with like, birds of a feather stick together, wands of the same wood will last for good. So even if he wasn't on the same side as her, he was her brother – she would protect him from the harm Granger could do to him. Even if she had to keep hurting him as well to do it.

* * *

**Sorry sorry sorry about the no-update! My laptop broke, I only just managed to get it fixed. I hope you like this chapter, even if this story is a bit angsty right now. Don't worry, it'll get better.**

**AND the poll is tied. Honestly, guys, I need some consensus here. If you haven't voted and you care who Ginny ends up with, please go vote.**


	21. The Mess I Made

_Should've held my ground_

_Could have been redeemed_

_For every second chance_

_That changed it's mind on me_

_I should have spoken up_

_I should have proudly claimed_

_That oh my head's to blame_

_For all my heart's mistakes._

_-_Parachute

* * *

Carly bit into a stick of celery, her eyes fixed on the girl opposite her. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," Astoria said. "From six to seven, Potter will be alone in his room, and the door will be unlocked."

"Why?"

"Is that really important?" Astoria countered Carly's question. "What's important is that the Chosen One will be alone, in a private place, with a bed. If you can't manage to score with him under those circumstances…"

"You're a Slytherin, why side with me?" Carly took another bite of celery. Distantly, Astoria wondered how smart the girl truly was. On one hand, she was a Hufflepuff, who could generally be beaten in chess by a mouldy log, but on the other hand she had moments where she seemed quite shrewd. A puzzle, but not one Astoria found very interesting. "I'm annoyed with Isabelle," Astoria lied smoothly, "She's so damn _smug_ since she got the Chosen One. It would really cheer me up if someone stole him from her."

"Why not you?" Carly wound a strand of blonde hair around her finger, looking pensive. Astoria assumed she was working all the angles out, but actually she was running through all the possible outfits for tonight.

Astoria sighed, managing to look genuinely regretful. "I don't have the password into Gryffindor since they changed it," she brightened, "Of course, if you give it to me -"

"No," Carly said hastily, as Astoria had known she would. She hid a smirk. "They'd notice you, and stop you before you got there. I… I think… I suppose I'll think about it. Thank you for telling me."

"You're welcome," said Astoria, vaguely surprised at the polite comment.

* * *

"So, are you still planning to go to the thing tomorrow?" Blaise called after Ginny. The wind made it very hard to hear.

Ginny pulled her broom into a stopped position. She had to do this reasonably frequently – Blaise was not a Quidditch player. Ginny wondered why she'd thought it would be a good idea to spend her free period flying with a boy she now knew to be a double-crosser.

Especially such a completely unskilled double-crosser, apparently – Ginny winced as he nearly flipped over trying to pull into a stop beside her. "What?" she said, trying to remember what his question had been.

"I said," Blaise was breathing quite heavily from flying, "Are you going to that thing tomorrow? You know, the big interview."

"It's for the whole weekend, and of course I am," Ginny responded. "I have to tell them all about how it was at Hogwarts, since Neville's too busy to go and Luna's – well – Luna." Ginny sighed. She wasn't looking forward to this weekend at all, since she knew that the vast majority of questions would be about her break-up with Harry.

"You shouldn't," Blaise said abruptly.

Ginny looked at him, confused. "What?"

"Don't go. I'm telling you that you shouldn't go," Blaise enunciated it clearly, staring at her like he was trying to communicate some secret meaning.

Suddenly Ginny felt very annoyed. "You know what, Blaise? Pick a side." She dove towards the ground, pulling into another sharp stop at just the right height to hop off. Attempting to follow her, Blaise ploughed into a bush. Ginny winced and went to help him up.

"What did you say?" Blaise finally managed. His mind was racing. _She knew._ He didn't know how, but she knew.

"I said, _pick a side_. Clearly you're trying to give me some hint about what your little friends are planning, but you don't seem willing to do anything more," Ginny noted that his dark face went ashen. "Choose a side. If you're not with me, you're against me."

Blaise raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. "It's not about you. It's nothing to do with you."

"Well, it involves Harry and Ron at least, maybe even Hermione, so I'd say it is about me," Ginny shot back. She took a step back, fighting the overwhelming urge to push him back into the bush.

"Who cares about them?" Blaise said, a little harshly. "The guy who dumped you, the brother who doesn't care, and that bitch who got you dumped in the first place. You should just let them all go suffer."

Ginny felt her jaw drop a little. "You…you don't have a clue, do you? I can't _not care_ about them, no matter what happens. You don't just let the people you love get hurt without doing something to stop it." Blaise looked away. "Tell me the truth, Blaise," Ginny said, her voice softening. "Please. If you really do care about me, be on my side."

"Will you be with me?" Blaise said unexpectedly. He took a step forward, and grabbed her hand with his own. His hand was warm and larger than hers, and Ginny felt an agreeable tingle from it. "If you'll be my girlfriend than I'll be on your side."

_Whoa, wait, _stop_. _"If you care about me, you should be on my side anyway," Ginny shot back, her voice cool. She tried to tug away her hand, but he held on.

Blaise didn't know what the hell he was doing now. All he knew was that somehow Ginny had found out about Isabelle's little scheme, and he was screwed on so many levels. And that Ginny would choose everyone who betrayed her over him, even now. "If _you_ care about _me_, you should give me a chance," he responded.

"I am giving you a chance! A chance to be a good person, to do the right thing," Ginny said hotly.

"_The right thing_?" Blaise said angrily. "As defined by Gryffindors, of course. Everything Gryffindors do is the good thing, the brave thing, isn't that right? The rest of us, well -"

"You're not like the other Slytherins," Ginny said, her voice now faintly pleading. "You're a good person."

Blaise ignored her. "Give me a chance. Go out with me. I was your friend when no one else was, I looked after you, listened to you, took care of you," Blaise noticed with triumph that Ginny stopped trying to pull away for a second and her eyes got warmer. "You owe me."

Blaise knew immediately that that had been the wrong thing to say. Ginny's eyes got even colder, and she tried to pull away again. "Let go of me," she snarled.

"No! Listen to me -" Blaise knew in that moment that she would never be his girlfriend, never kiss him, never sleep with him. Panting, furious, sun-tanned, and freckled, she wasn't the Ginny he had charmed with such ease a few weeks ago. That Ginny had been pale and helpless, half-sleepwalking through the world, a flame-haired damsel in distress who needed strong arms wrapped around her – this Ginny was a freckled tomboy who seemed quite capable of cursing him into oblivion.

He knew exactly who to blame the change on, too. Blaise had spent hours and hours comforting Ginny and looking after her, but then bloody Granger had charged in and in one night Ginny had become both untouchable and unstoppable. With the advent of the suspicious Granger into his life, he'd lost his chance with Ginny. She'd stopped needing him. He'd lost control of her.

Blaise realised she must be responsible for this, too. The genius had figured it out and poisoned Ginny's mind against him. It had to be her. In that second, he decided furiously that he didn't care whether Draco the Jerk and Granger the Bitch worked it out and lived happily ever after.

Isabelle was right, all these Gryffindors deserved it. Granger and Potter had betrayed Ginny by not believing in her, and Ginny had betrayed Blaise by choosing them over him. As for Weasley, he was just pathetic, with his blonde nympho of a girlfriend and his week-long sulk. They could all fry.

"Blaise," Ginny said, forcing herself to remain calm. "Let go, you're hurting me. Ow!" she yelped as he squeezed harder for a second before letting her go. For the first time Ginny fully appreciated that Blaise wasn't just a friendly guy, he was a Slytherin as well. He seemed to have dropped the amiable mask, glaring at her acidly. The expression sat oddly on his normally-smiling face. The violence of it seemed too erode some of her own fury. "We're friends," she said, trying to reason with him. It felt like she needed to say it.

"Not anymore," Blaise said, his voice weary now, his acid mask dropping at her comment. He felt a pang of sadness at the truth in it. They were on different sides, and had chosen to be different people. "Was there ever… would you ever have been with me?"

"I don't know," Ginny answered honestly. "I really don't know. Please, Blaise, it's not too late, we can still be friends -"

"No we can't," Blaise interrupted her. "After all," he added, with a hint of venom. "We were never really friends to start with, were we?" He saw her face crumble at that comment and immediately felt guilty. "I – Ginny, I'm sorry – I just – don't go tomorrow. Promise me you won't go."

"I'm going," Ginny said, holding back her tears. She wouldn't cry in front of him – he'd spied on her, lied to her, and essentially tried to blackmail her into dating him.

Blaise stared at her angrily for a few seconds, then muttered a swearword and walked away fearlessly. She was a Gryffindor, after all – she wouldn't curse him while his back was turned.

* * *

"What do you think they're planning?" Hermione grabbed a seat next to Draco. Honestly, she didn't think discussing Isabelle and Astoria with him would net any positive results, but she had to try.

Well, that was her excuse. Actually she just wanted to see him respond, to see him express some emotion. It pissed her off that she was still miserable and he seemed to be perfectly okay – going on with life as normal. Yesterday's emotionless stare had really annoyed her.

Draco looked at her, his face carefully blank. "Who?"

"You _know_ who," Hermione said. She looked around. More than a few people in the library were watching them. "We should go somewhere private to talk."

"We don't need to talk." Draco returned his attention to the book he was reading.

Hermione continued regardless. "They said Weasley and Potter. Do they mean Ginny or Ron when they say Weasley? I tried to talk to Harry about it, but he's really busy, he had to go see the Headmistress to be briefed on what he's allowed to tell the interviewers this weekend. He wouldn't listen, just said to tell him later." She had, however, managed to make sure he didn't drink out of the cup Isabelle handed him at breakfast, by knocking it over. The younger girl had glared at her and she'd smiled sweetly. It had been Hermione's decision that Harry shouldn't be told what they knew quite yet - it would take a couple of days for the potion's effect to fully wear off, and it wasn't like a few days should make any difference really. "So, Ginny or Ron? I'm thinking it's Ginny because they were a couple -"

"Wouldn't that be incest?" Draco drawled, being deliberately facetious to shut her up. It was hard maintaining this mask of unconcern when she was so close. He wanted to grab her and kiss her senseless, bury his face in her hair, stroke her smooth skin with his hands, and tell her he loved her. He couldn't do any of that, though.

"You know what I mean," Hermione hissed. She hated that he was being difficult on purpose. She shifted closer to him. "Listen, I was wondering -"

In one swift movement, Draco slammed the book, grabbed his bag and stood up. "Have to go," he said by way of explanation. "I have class."

"Not for half an hour!" Hermione said, then realised she'd let it out that she knew his schedule.

Either Draco hadn't noticed or chose to pretend he hadn't. "I don't want to be late," he said imperturbably.

* * *

"You really need to make up with Ron before tomorrow," Isabelle said, leaning her head on Harry's shoulder to stare up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. She knew the pose made her look a little like a kitten, all big eyes and semi-innocence.

"I've been trying to – wait, why tomorrow?" Harry frowned at her. He was starting not to like it when she acted like this, all little and helpless. He personally preferred stronger girls – girls who could fly better than the birds and hex you if they had to and who were brave and funny and hardly ever cried… Harry shook it off, realising he'd switched from describing his preferred qualities in girlfriends to describing Ginny. Certainly no one could say Cho had hardly ever cried.

Isabelle smiled sweetly. "Because tomorrow's like a road trip! All of us, going away together. I can't wait."

Personally Harry thought it seemed more like a road trip to hell than anything else. What with the complicated interpersonal relationships of the main interviewees, it could end very badly. The only people that had to be there for the whole weekend instead of nipping in and out for their interviews were Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Malfoy, and Isabelle as Harry's current girlfriend (though what insight she could give on the past year, Harry had no idea). Neville had also been invited and impolitely declined, a decision Harry envied greatly.

He wasn't sure what Malfoy's role was, exactly.

"What are you thinking?" Isabelle asked, reaching her hand up to stroke Harry's face.

"Just wondering why Malfoy's invited, even though he didn't do much last year," Harry said honestly.

Isabelle refrained from rolling her eyes with great difficulty. "He owned the Elder Wand for a while. Plus, he's the youngest Death Eater ever, very rich, and very attractive – he's there for the story value."

"Story value?"

"It's a good story," Isabelle clarified. "Redeemed bad boy. It's interesting." She smiled. "Now, about Ron, I have an idea."

"Yeah?" Harry didn't feel very hopeful. He'd tried everything he could think of with Ron, nearly to the point of stalking. He wanted his best friend back. Just like he wanted Ginny back.

The revelation should have been shocking, but as soon as he had the thought it seemed comforting, even familiar. Like he'd thought it a lot of times and just not noticed before - but he felt oddly more awake today, less like he was sleepwalking. He wanted Ginny back. He wanted Ginny. His stubborn, fiery, wonderful Ginny.

Of course, she might have moved on. He thought about it and decided that didn't matter. If she'd moved on he'd leave her alone, but he had to at least try first. He looked down at Isabelle.

"I'll organise it all," Isabelle was promising. "Just be alone in your room at six, and I'll get Ron there. Okay?"

"Okay," Harry said absently. He had to break up with Isabelle. The thought made him cold – he just wasn't any good at conversations like that. And he couldn't do it now, she'd already packed for tomorrow and been invited, breaking up with her now would make it highly public and embarrassing for her. He could just see the headlines "Harry Potter's Rebound Girl". Which, while true, wouldn't be fair on her.

He'd break up with her when they got back, Harry decided with mounting relief. Having made the decision, he felt happier. In the meantime, no kissing or – other things. Especially no other things. What would Ginny think? Would she be okay that he wasn't a virgin? That his first time hadn't been with her?

_You're getting ahead of yourself, you're barely on speaking terms with Ginny and you're already freaking out over that stuff. Deal with it when – if – you get there. _Harry gently detached himself from Isabelle. "Sorry, what was that?"

"Be in your room from six to seven," Isabelle said, realising belatedly that she shouldn't order him around and softening it with a smile. "I promise, I'll get W- I'll get Ron there."

* * *

It was around six when Hermione finally located Draco again. He was in one of Hogwarts' many empty classrooms, but this one she recognised. It was very near the Gryffindor dormitory, and she often studied there. "Hi," she said softly.

Draco turned around from the work he'd been doing. His eyes immediately went to Hermione's neck. "You're wearing the scarf I made," he noted, struggling to stay calm. It made him want to pick her up and yell at her, it was such a nasty bit of emotional manipulation. "The colour doesn't go."

"I like it," Hermione replied. Inside her head she was screaming _respond_! She wanted him to react. It was selfish and crazy but she needed to know she wasn't the only one hurting. "Did I ever thank you for that?"

"I think so," Draco forced himself to return to the parchment he was writing on.

"It's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me, the sweetest thing."

"Good," Draco didn't look up.

Hermione decided to return to the earlier conversation. "So do you think she meant Ron or Ginny? Because I've filled Ginny in on everything, but I haven't been able to get to Ron. What if it's already happened?"

"Did you come here wearing that to try and charm information out of me? Because I don't have any more than you do." Draco bit out.

Hermione winced. In all fairness, she could see why he'd think that. She was being kind of a bitch – if he was upset. If he wasn't, she was just making a fool out of herself. Bad either way, really. "I didn't. I just thought you might have some – well, thoughts. Opinions."

Draco sighed and closed his eyes. He probably did owe her some information, even if he couldn't talk to her directly about Isabelle's plans thanks to the parchment he'd foolishly signed. "Isabelle's thorough. It all depends on what's more likely to get fixed."

"What do you mean?" Hermione moved closer to him.

"If Potter and the Weaselette are more likely to make up, a smart enemy would be targeting them. Are they anywhere near to getting back together?"

Hermione chewed her bottom lip. "I don't _think_ so."

"Well, then," Draco realised he'd been writing random letters on the parchment, and scratched them out. "She must be going for Weasel King, if he's the one more likely to get all buddy-buddy with the Boy Who Whined. Destroy it before it mends. Basic game theory – you keep them off guard, don't allow them time to heal."

"I don't like it when you talk like that," Hermione frowned. "It sounds… cold."

"I am cold," Draco replied. "And the simple solution to your problem of how I talk is over there. It's called a door. It can be used at any time."

"Do you think Harry and Ginny will get back together?" Hermione said, more to change the subject than anything else. "I mean… after everything…"

Draco's eyes went cloudy for a moment as he considered it. "Maybe," he finally decided. "There's a lot to forgive. People have managed to figure out worse, though. And they have history."

"Are you on Isabelle and Astoria's side?" Hermione asked him point-blank. She felt like she had to ask him, to be sure.

"Not anymore," Draco said coolly. "Now I'm on my side."

Suddenly Hermione felt a little cold. "Not _anymore_?"

"I'll answer the questions you won't ask," Draco drawled. "Yes, I lied to you at first; yes, I played you; and yes, I'm sorry." It took a great effort to tell her that, not that anyone would have known from his slight smirk. "It hardly matters, though, does it?"

"It matters," said Hermione, suddenly angry. "You _lied_ to me. Were you spying on me? Was it your plan?"

"No," Draco said, "It wasn't my plan."

"So, Isabelle's plan then? She seemed like she was in charge," Hermione snapped. "Are you – what did Astoria say? – Minion Number Two? Oh, Merlin. Did you tell her what I told you about Ginny and Harry? You must have… oh God… did you use a love potion on me?"

"For that to be the case, you'd have to love me," Draco pointed out, watching as she reddened a bit and assuming it was just embarrassment at the stupid question. "No, I just used natural charm." He thought about it and decided if he was in for a Knut, he might as well be in for a Galleon. "Well, and Veritaserum."

"_Veritaserum_?" Hermione gasped, absolutely stunned. "You -"

"I also did a lot of other quite bad things," Draco interrupted her. "But I think I should get points for quitting when I did. And, after all, I'm not a good guy – I don't _have_ to be a good guy. Or a bad guy. I'm just a guy."

"You jerk," Hermione spat, reaching out to slap him. _He _drugged_ me!_ He caught her hand with ease and yanked her closer. "You're such a bastard!"

"And you're a bitch," Draco returned hotly. "Wearing that stupid scarf and coming in here to try and seduce information out of me -"

"Well you didn't just use seduction, you used _potions_!" Hermione yelled. She tried to slap him with the other hand but he caught that as well. She went to knee him, but catching her intentions in her eyes he pulled her too close to be able to, so that they were pressed against each other.

"Yeah, tell me you didn't like it," Draco snapped. "All of it. Me under you, over you, inside you -"

Hermione hissed, and then used some words so bad Draco would have been mildly impressed if they didn't make him so angry. After a few seconds of filthy, insulting epithets, he shut her dirty mouth with his own, pressing his lips against hers, kissing her fiercely.

She responded with alacrity, tugging her hands free to yank at his hair viciously. She bit at his lower lip, tugging at it, making the kiss steadily more animalistic. Wildly, he growled against her, hands reaching her hips to pull her hard against him, so she could feel just how much he was enjoying this. One kiss slid into another, neither stopping, neither slowing, feral and fierce and so good Hermione moaned when he pulled away.

She could feel her lips burning, bruised and red. His were quite red too. In a sudden, slightly vicious move he pushed her away from him completely. "Well," he said hoarsely. "Well done. You got what you wanted, didn't you? A response."

Hermione staggered, before managing to right herself. "I didn't – I mean – I just – I just wanted to know you cared too," she finished lamely. It occurred to her in the back of her mind that she should be angrier about everything he'd done, but she just couldn't manage it right now. _Someday, if we're ever really together again, I'll yell at him for at least an hour for that_, she promised herself. She could see it, too, Draco effortlessly rebutting her arguments and then eventually pulling her into another hot kiss and making her lose her mind all over again while she tried frantically to remember why she was angry.

"You know I care," Draco said, not looking at her. "What I can't figure out is why you do. You're in love with the Weasel, why do you care what I think about you? Are you so selfish you can't stand the thought you aren't the centre of everyone's existence?"

"No – Draco – I don't -" Hermione realised she needed to tell him the truth. That image in her mind of them together… she loved him. This was wrong, this was so wrong. He needed to know the truth, and then he could decide what to do with it. "Draco, I lied."

"Of course you did," He still didn't look at her. "Everybody lies. What did you lie about this time?" Suddenly, Draco paused, looking alert.

Hermione took advantage of the moment. "I lied, I don't love -"

"Did you hear that?" Draco interrupted her, apparently not listening. As a matter of fact, he was trying to concentrate on the noise he'd just heard. It sounded like a fight.

"What? No," Hermione tried to continue, frantic to get him to listen. "Draco, I -" Then she heard it too. "What the hell?"

She followed Draco to the door, and he yanked it open. "I think it's coming from this way," he pointed towards the Gryffindor dormitory. She chased after him, wondering why he even cared about some kids trying to duel –

As they turned the corner, Draco yanked Hermione to the ground just in time as a spell sailed over their heads. Draco muttered a Shield Charm and the next bolt of light was reflected harmlessly. Hermione peered through it and gasped.

In the centre of a crowd of watchers, who were scurrying to avoid the hastily cast spells, Ron was throwing repeated _Stupefy_ spells at Harry, who was ducking or deflecting them in turns.

Hermione leapt to her feet, rushing to get closer, having to skirt her way around Draco's charm. After a second's hesitation, he followed her.

Hermione burst into the circle that had been left as an in impromptu duelling ring. "What's going on? What happened?"

Ron glared at her. "Get out of the way, Hermione!" He threw another hex at Harry, who deflected it, looking at Hermione as well. "Go screw a Slytherin, that's what you're good at. This is none of your business."

Hermione flinched at the comment, but continued forward until she was exactly between them. She faced Ron. "What's going on? Tell me, please. Maybe I can help -" She kept her voice deliberately calm.

"He seduced my girlfriend," Ron said coldly.

Hermione blinked, and wheeled automatically to face Harry, nearly banging into the silent Draco in the process. "_Really_?"

"Of course not!" Harry said furiously. "I was hanging out in my room, waiting for Ron to come and talk to me, and she just turned up and tried to – well – you know. Ron, mate, I wouldn't do that to you!"

"It didn't look like you were trying to fight her off when I walked in!" Ron threw another spell at Harry, who easily blocked. Hermione wondered at Ron's optimism, that he really thought he could defeat Harry in a duel. Harry had _taught_ them how to duel. She took another step, so she was directly between them again.

"Ron, Harry wouldn't -"

"_Shut up!_ _Petrificus totalus!_" Ron screamed, pointing his wand at Hermione.

She would have hit the ground if Draco hadn't grabbed her. "_Finite incantatum,_" he muttered, taking the spell off her straight away. Then he straightened, eying Ron. "Bad move, Weasley."

"Oh yeah?" Ron yelled. His face was bright purple with anger.

"Yeah," Draco said, quite calmly. "_Expelliarmus_." He wanted to do a fiercer, nastier spell, but didn't want Hermione to look at him disappointedly. Really, how could she love this moron? Draco caught Ron's wand as it spiralled through the air. "Honestly, Potter, you should have done that earlier. Isn't this your signature move?"

"I – he dodged," Harry said feebly. He caught the wand as Draco chucked it to him, looking surprised. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Draco took a step back, out of the circle.

Harry turned to Ron. "Ron, I swear, I didn't do _anything_. I wouldn't! How can you even think -"

"My whole life, you've taken everything I ever wanted," Ron said, suddenly, icily calm. "My brothers like you better than me – my parents love you – my sister loves you – the girl I always wanted barely even sees me anymore – you even took my girlfriend just because you could. It's all about _you_, isn't it, Harry? Your fight, your losses, your war – your war that my brother _died_ in. And you still have everything.' Ron turned his back and started to walk away. He tossed a final statement over his shoulder. "I wish Voldemort had killed you."

There was a massive intake of breath. Hermione let out a whimper of horror. Everyone in the area looked at Ron in shock. Even he looked a little surprised at what he'd said. For a second, his face worked strangely, and he said, "Harry – I -" but then he just hardened his expression and left.

Draco let out a breath, honestly surprised. None of the others would notice – how could they know, they didn't have his upbringing – but he had. That slight twitch…He had to talk to Isabelle, now.

Hermione caught his arm as he started to walk away. "Draco – wait -"

Draco shook her hand off. "Go after the Weasel. Look after the idiot you love."

"I am," said Hermione, her voice suddenly strong. People were starting to disperse, talking animatedly. Harry just stood in the same spot, dumbfounded. "That's what I lied about. I don't love Ron. I love you."

Draco stood stock still, absolutely stunned. His mouth worked, but nothing came out. Hermione managed a shaky smile, unable to bring herself to wait and see his full reaction – what if he was horrified? "Just thought you should know," she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek before scampering after Harry.

Draco couldn't bring himself to move for nearly a minute, but then he forced himself to. He _had _to talk to Isabelle now.

* * *

"Interesting thing," Draco said casually, sitting down next to Isabelle. He pulled out his wand and let it rest on her shoulder. "Weasley and Potter just had a fight. Weasley said some _nasty_ things. Really nasty."

"Did he now." Isabelle batted away the wand as if it was nothing. Draco brought it back to rest in the same spot anyway.

"Now, you don't know Weasley," Draco said, in the manner of someone telling an interesting story. "Not like I do. Our families have always hated each other, you know. And Ron Weasley is an immature twat who would lose a battle of wits with a dustbunny, in my opinion." Draco smiled in a twisted way. "But I've also seen him get angry, repeatedly. He blows up, he sulks a little, he blows up again. He doesn't hide himself in his room, though, so I found it _odd_ that he did now. Didn't question it though because I didn't really care."

Isabelle slowly put the book she'd been reading down.

"And then today, he acts completely out of character for him. Except, wait, he's been acting out of character for _weeks_. _Weeks_, Isabelle. Even I know him well enough to tell that – his friends might be putting it down to grief or something ridiculous like that, but then Gryffindors frequently miss the obvious solutions because they themselves wouldn't use them. Then today – he twitched a bit. Looked like he was fighting with himself. Now maybe, just maybe, the Weasel suddenly has multiple personality disorder. Wouldn't bet on it, though. I recognised that twitch," Draco's voice went more dangerous. "That's the kind of twitch someone gets when they've been under the Imperius for a while and they're _fighting_ it."

Isabelle looked away.

Draco sat back. "Merlin. You did it, you actually Imperius-ed him. What the _hell_ is wrong with you? Take it off him right now. You can Memory Charm him so he doesn't remember it! Isabelle, you idiot – it's an _Unforgivable. _You'll go to Azkaban if anyone finds out!"

"They won't," Isabelle said, strangely certain. "You won't tell them."

"Why won't I?" snapped Draco. "I didn't sign any agreements not to divulge this."

"You won't, _because_ I'll go to Azkaban," Isabelle said, with brutal simplicity. "You wouldn't do that to me."

The horrifying thing was, Draco realised, she was right. He couldn't do that to her. Not because they were friends – if that's what they were – but because she reminded him so vividly of himself. She was a teenager happily planning a horrific thing (even if he wasn't sure what it was) using every weapon she could, including the Imperius. If she started putting poison in mead then he'd have to sue her for plagiarism.

She was vague, lately. She'd lost a lot of weight. There were bruises under her eyes – the eyes that were so very like his. She looked a female version of how he'd been in sixth year – tortured with confusion, but eager to see the job through anyway. And he _had _been eager to kill Dumbledore. He'd been flattered and thrilled and looked forward to it, until about six months in when he realised just what he was doing. Ending a life.

"What are you _doing_?" Draco said, his voice barely above a whisper. "What's your plan? I know it's bad; I've know that for a while, we all have. I just… I thought there was a chance some people would get expelled or maybe even be injured, but this seems… much bigger. Is someone telling you what to do?"

"I'm not going to tell you," Isabelle said. "Wave that wand around all you want. You won't hurt me, and I won't hurt you. This is my plan and _I will see it through_. And if you're not going to kill me or put me in jail, you'll have to stop me the old-fashioned way."

"What's worth going to Azkaban for?" Draco retorted. "What the hell is worth that much?"

"My father is," Isabelle said. "And he's dead." Draco stared at her, shocked.

"I didn't know -"

"Yes, well, no one knows, and no one's going to know," Isabelle said coldly. "Don't tell anyone. Please, Draco."

"I – you were close, weren't you?" Draco felt the stirrings of sympathy for the very broken girl in front of him. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that Isabelle wasn't entirely sane – there was something missing inside her. The same thing he'd once thought he was missing. And for that reason, he wouldn't give up on her.  
To his surprise, she snorted. "'Close'," she repeated, "Let me guess. Your mother told you that. Or your father."

Draco searched his mind for where he'd heard that said before. "My mother told me that sixth year, the first time I mentioned you to her. Why does it matter?"

"No reason," Isabelle said vaguely. "Your sister died, Draco. Now imagine if she'd been murdered – if it was someone's fault she died. It's Harry Potter's fault my father is dead. In that stupid battle where he was too much of a coward to give himself up, my father was shot with eight stunning spells. That, and then Azkaban – Harry Potter may as well have used the Killing Curse on my father, and _he will pay for it_. And no one is going to get in my way. Even you."

* * *

**Yeah, I've been dropping hints for the Ron-is-Imperiused thing for ages and ages. I know that this story's getting a bit more action-y now, but this was always the way I planned it to go.**

**Also, I took the poll down when it reached a hundred. Harry won by exactly one vote, so well done him.**

**Thanks for the song, told you I'd use it.**


	22. Stay Pretty

_So give up and give in and start over again_

_But be honest, 'cause you're all I need_

_It's pathetic_

_Why can't we get it straight?_

-Farewell

* * *

"The Headmistress wants us in her office by three," Harry said to Hermione. He looked exhausted, she thought, an absolute wreck. But then she probably didn't look much better – last night she'd gone to the room where Draco and she had spent their nights, the classroom where she'd left him sleeping, and the old Astronomy classroom where they'd first started spending time together. He wasn't in any of them.

Maybe it was her fault, for expecting him to have an answer already. But then, was it really that complicated? He either loved her or he didn't. Probably the latter.

"For the Portkey, right. I think she mentioned that the other day."

"Yes," Harry yawned, covering his mouth. "Have you spoken to Ron?"

"No," Hermione admitted, "To be honest, I really doubt he wants to see me. He hates me, remember?"

"He hates me more, now," Harry said miserably. "I can't believe he _said_ that. I can't believe he would even think -" Harry broke off.

"I can't either," Hermione said softly. She put her hand on Harry's arm, trying to comfort him. "He's been acting so strangely, lately. There must be something he's not telling us."

"I can't imagine what he thinks he couldn't tell us," Harry pointed out, "I mean, unless he's dating Draco Malfoy as well you're still ahead in shock value."

"I'm not dating Draco Malfoy," Hermione said automatically. "I mean, maybe not. Probably not. I'm not sure. It's hard to tell." She looked at Harry's uncomfortable face and took pity on him. "Never mind. Not your problem."

"Right," Harry said. "Anyway, can you tell him that at three we're Portkeying from Professor McGonagall's new office to the hotel where we're getting interviewed."

"Sure."

* * *

"I can't believe Ginny and I broke up," Blaise said. He leaned backwards, staring at the ceiling, ignoring the game of checkers in front of him that he'd just lost.

"I can't believe you're calling it a break-up when she never showed the slightest interest in you," Astoria said in a remarkably chipper voice, probably because of her winning streak. When Blaise raised his head to glare at her, she added, "I also can't believe she managed to put up with your company for so long. Did you whine this much when you talked to her?"

Blaise threw one of his quills at her and she ducked. "You're a total bitch."

"But at least I'm honest. How about you be honest too. Did you love her?" Astoria said in a singsong voice, as if she already knew the answer.

"No. Maybe. Okay, no. But I _could_ have loved her," Blaise confessed. "She made me feel like… I was needed, you know? Like I was a hero, rescuing her."

Astoria rolled her eyes. "Hero fantasies. Of course. I think you just liked her because she made you think you were a good guy, even though you're not."

"What do you mean?" Blaise said, offended. He kicked the checker board bad-temperedly, sending pieces flying. Astoria glared at him.

"Blaise, you try and sleep with anything that fits the broad definition of female," Astoria pointed out. "You cheat at schoolwork, use the first-years as personal slaves and spent the whole of last year Gryffindor-baiting. But I _saw_ Weaselette with you – she treated you like you were this pure-as-driven-snow, truthful, supportive, friendly sweetheart. And you _liked_ it."

"Yeah, I did," Blaise frowned. "But that's the thing – I can't help thinking that if I was who she thought I was, she'd love me."

"You'll never find out," Astoria said with brutal simplicity. "No, don't glare at me, for once I'm not just being mean. You can't change every single aspect of your personality for her. One or two, maybe, but not all."

"Do you feel left out?" Blaise said, trying to change the subject. "I mean, Isabelle and Draco and everyone get to go to this hotel thing, but we're just staying here."

"A bit," Astoria allowed. "I'm especially jealous of the hotel beds. It's been ages since I've been in a hotel bed. So bouncy."

"Hah," Blaise said. His dirty mind immediately flashed a picture of Ginny and him on one of the beds.

Astoria tutted, knowing exactly what he was thinking. "Let go of the dream, Zabini. You don't have enough time to weasel your way back into her life – no pun intended – before this afternoon. Let it go. Just go back to your normal life of pathetically trying to score with every girl you know."

"I don't want to do that any more," Blaise said, hearing his own words with some surprise. "It just seems – emptier – now. I mean, with Weasel's girlfriend, it just seemed so pointless. But then," he added with a sudden flash of insight, "You know exactly what I'm talking about, don't you?"

Astoria scooted back a little. "What? No, no, I don't."

"Yeah, you do," Blaise could tell he was on to something by her expression. "You've been hooking up a lot less often lately, from what I've heard. In fact, you're here playing checkers with me right now instead of in an empty room with some idiot. Trying to make yourself into girlfriend material for Malfoy?"

"No," Astoria repeated weakly, "Of course not."

"He likes the virginal types," Blaise taunted, "Is that what you're trying to be? Have you suddenly decided a life of screwing around is not for you?"

"Shut up," a voice came. It wasn't Astoria's. Instead, Isabelle stood at the door. She didn't look amused or even very interested – just tired. "Leave her alone, she's just doing the same thing as you. Both of you," she continued severely, "Base your lives far too much on Malfoy's. Blaise, because you look up to him and are incredibly jealous of him, don't deny it. And Astoria, because you have this stupid idea in your head that you love him. So it's really not that surprising that as soon as he starts doing the whole falling-in-love traditional-dating thing you're both trying to do the same."

"I am _not_ copying Malfoy," Blaise protested, horrified.

"Really? He wants a Gryffindor girl, you want one too?" Isabelle said. "Sounds like copying to me. You're both trying to keep up with him by forming a meaningful relationship, just because he has one. Do us all a favour and just go make out with each other in the corner instead of whining about it or living in denial." With that final statement, she left the room.

Blaise and Astoria eyed each other. "Do you know, I kind of hate her sometimes," Astoria said eventually.

"Do you know, I kind of agree," Blaise said. He looked mildly disgusted. "Like we're ever going to have a relationship. I don't like used goods."

"Ooh, burn," Astoria commented, not looking particularly offended. "Well, that's okay, I don't go for second-best, Blaise darling."

Blaise glared at her for that one. "If I decided to date you, I'd be admitted to St Mungos for insanity within a few weeks."

"If _I_ decided to date _you_, I'd be admitted to Azkaban for _murder_ within a few _days_," Astoria retorted. Blaise's glare got even nastier. After a moment's pause, she gave in. "Another game of checkers?"

"Only if you stop cheating," Blaise said coldly. Astoria just rolled her eyes and set the board again. After all, it wasn't as if _they_ had to pack for an all-expenses-paid weekend at a posh hotel. Those lucky bastards.

* * *

"I've finally found you," Draco said. It was just after Potions class, and Hermione was packing up her stuff.

"Have you been looking?" Hermione replied, her voice cool. His voice gave away nothing, and she couldn't help thinking that that was a very bad sign.

Draco sighed. "Yes, of course I have, I've been looking for you all day. We need to talk."

"I have class."

"Skip it," Draco said roughly. "This is important. Come on, we really do need to talk."

"Fine," Hermione let him grab her hand and pull her along after him. "Where are we going?" She realised they were moving away from most of their usual spots.

"My room," Draco said imperturbably.

Hermione came to an abrupt halt, yanking her hand out of his. "What? In the _Slytherin Dungeon_? Are you out of your mind?"

"It's closest and we won't get interrupted," Draco replied impatiently. "Hurry up."

"I'm not going into Slytherin House!" Hermione said, refusing to move. "Apart from everything else, think of the gossip."

"I don't care about the gossip."

"Your parents will!" Hermione pointed out. He grabbed her hand again and resumed towing her, and she went along reluctantly.

"Then I don't care about my parents," Draco said coolly. It was more of a throwaway comment than anything else, but it shut Hermione up.

Not for long, though. She opened her mouth to point out how it would matter to him when he was broke and disinherited, but before she could say anything Draco stopped in front of one of the walls and stared at it. When she was about to ask if he'd lost his mind, he spoke up loudly "_Salazar_." The wall slid open, and Draco walked through, still dragging Hermione after him by her hand like a balloon on a string.

"This is a bad idea," Hermione said feelingly.

Draco smiled at her, his ideas still shadowed. "You always say that."

"And I'm always right!" Hermione hissed as she was pulled through the Common Room, getting incredulous stares from most of the occupants.

"Now-it-all," Draco whispered back.

In the far corner she could see Blaise, looking surprised at her sudden appearance, sitting across a checkerboard from a slit-eyed Astoria. Hermione looked at Astoria, trying to show her apologies with her eyes for not keeping her word not to tell Draco. Astoria hesitated, and then gave a brusque nod that could have meant understanding or acceptance or greeting or anything at all really.

And then they were through, into a hallway, and Draco pulled her into his room. The walls were stone just like the dungeon walls, but she noticed all of the furniture was highly expensive and with emerald green trim. It also had a very nice fireplace.

Hermione detached her hand from his again. "Well," she said. "Talk."

Draco hesitated, looking more defenceless than normal. "I love you."

Hermione melted. "You? Oh? Wow. Really?" She leant forwards to wrap her arms around him, angling her lips to kiss him, but he stepped back. She felt the rejection like a slap.

"Listen," Draco said, looking ill at ease. "I really do love you. But it's not… that simple."

"Why isn't it?" Hermione said, starting to feel very angry. "I love you, you love me. Sounds simple to me."

"The thing is," Draco looked away, uncomfortably. "The thing is, you might not love me after you know everything. Everything I've done. I _want_ us to be happy," he looked at her directly again, his grey eyes sincere. "I want to just smile and say that it's simple. But if I did that, the someday soon, someone else would tell you something horrible about me and you'll hate me for not telling you. If there's something you'll hate me for, I'd rather you found out about it now. Clearly," he added in attempt at humour, "Lying is not working out so well for us lately."

There were other reasons too, other than self-preservation, why Draco was planning to tell her everything she wanted to know. However, the second reason was too goody-goody for him to admit to – he felt like he owed her for the veritaserum, and this was a way to pay her back.

The third reason was that he also wanted her to be as closely tied to him as possible – it was obvious to him that the reason she'd gone off Weasley so fast was that he was behaving like a bastard. When Hermione found out about the Imperius curse, guilt and her original love for Weasley might propel her back into his arms. Draco was determined to tie them as close together as possible before that was discovered so that he was in with a chance – even if it was a slim one, since Hermione's half-decade of love for the Weasel clearly couldn't be wiped out so fast.

"So, what? You tell me your life story? Won't that take awhile?" Hermione had unstiffened now that she realised she wasn't being rejected. She smiled up at him. Personally, Hermione couldn't think of anything Draco could have done that would make her hate him, but she really did want to find out more about him.

"No," Draco remained serious. "You can ask me questions, and I'll answer them truthfully. If I can, anyway," he amended. "I've signed some things… well, let's just say there are some things I physically _can't_ tell you. About Isabelle's plan. It's not me holding back." He looked at her, waiting for her first question.

Hermione sat down on the bed, searching her mind for a question. She decided to just let them flow, without analysing them too much. "Have you ever cheated on me?"

"Since the first time I kissed you, I've only kissed one other person," Draco responded instantly. "I haven't had sex with anyone else."

"Who was the other person?"

Draco hesitated. "I can't… tell you that."

"Does that mean it was Isabelle?" Hermione felt a spurt of rage and jealousy inside herself. "As part of her plan?"

"No, it wasn't Isabelle," Draco said.

"Astoria," Hermione guessed, and knew she was right when he looked away again. She felt almost physically sick with hurt. "Did you… did you enjoy it?"

Draco smiled at her, and reached out to touch her face. She didn't move away. "Not one tenth as much as I enjoy kissing you. I love you." He reflected that it was easier to say it the second time, strangely, and sat down next to her.

"All right, second question. How many do I get?" she suddenly thought.

"Two," he replied gravely. "And you just used up the second one." He flinched as she hit him, then laughed. "Fine, as many as you want. As many as you've got. I am an open book."

Hermione smiled at that. Even if she knew every detail about his life, Draco Malfoy would never be an open book. He was too unpredictable. "Okay. Have you ever killed anyone?" _Talk about jumping in at the deep end._

"No I have not," Draco looked faintly surprised at the question, but answered anyway. "I have tortured people, though. To protect my family, and sometimes to protect my own life."

"Yes, Harry told me about that," Hermione said quietly. Draco shot her a questioning look, but she ignored it. He didn't need to know that Harry had seen him through Voldemort's eyes, terrified and lost and powerless. No one needed to know that. "Next question. Uh… favourite colour?"

"Blue," Draco said promptly. "I get the feeling you're not taking this seriously."

"I am too. What kind of blue?"

"Light blue, like that dress you were wearing the other night."

"How can that be your favourite colour when we broke up while I was wearing it?" Hermione demanded, annoyed.

"Well, since in hindsight it was more of a break than a break-up, everything we did while you were wearing it was a lot of fun," Draco dropped a light kiss on her forehead. "Plus, it reminded me of how beautiful you looked at the Yule Ball, and how I thought of that when I picked it for you, and how you had an adorable scowl on your face when you tried it on."

"You're sickening when you try and be all gushy," Hermione informed him, though her grin spoke to the contrary. "It's not your style."

"Fine. I'll stick to insults from now on," Draco pretended to be offended. He was actually hugely relieved now – he'd assumed she would hate him right from the "I tortured people" line, and couldn't remember doing anything worse. Actually, he'd almost believed she would leave as soon as she found he'd kissed someone else. Clearly she was a lot tougher than he thought.

He watched as Hermione searched her mind for another question, and was amused that she didn't seem able to think of any. Then he realised she was just wondering whether or not she could say whatever it was. That meant it was bad. His stomach twisted a little. "Just say it. Whatever it is, just ask."

The words rushed out of Hermione's mouth. "Tell me about your sister."

"Oh," Draco breathed out. Hermione could see the pain in his eyes, and started to assure him he didn't have to, but he held up a hand stopping her in mid-sentence. "No, it's okay. I don't mind talking about it. It was a long time ago, after all."

"How long ago?" Hermione said, her voice low. She reached out to offer him sympathy, but he moved away. She tried to quash the hurt from that.

"I was nearly three when she was born," Draco said emotionlessly, sounding like he was reciting a story known by heart. "And I hated her."

"Draco…"

"She was adorable, all blonde hair and big blue eyes. Her eyes didn't go grey like the rest of ours until she was nearly four," he added by way of explanation. "She was like a china-doll of a baby. She got endless amounts of attention, I thought she was spoiled rotten. She used to cry all the time and she bored me and annoyed me and she took up all my parents time. I hated her for that."

"You were three, everyone thinks like that when they're three," Hermione said hotly.

"Until my fifth birthday, I hated her," Draco continued as if she hadn't spoken. "I used to try and feed her everything I could find, or give her to the house-elves to raise as their own, or hold her upside down, or hit her with things. But then on my fifth birthday I had a couple of friends round – family friends, of course, I didn't have any of my own – and we were playing tag. I got gotten." He smirked, remembering it. "And of course I threw a _huge_ tantrum. I didn't want to be in. I yelled at everyone. So Carina – that was her name – she volunteered to be in. Only two, barely able to speak, but she just got so _worried_ that I was sad. She hugged me, kept saying _I love you, Dray, don't be sad, no sad._ It was adorable."

"And… something happened to her?" Hermione said gently. "When you were playing?"

"Hah, no, that part of the story's still a few years away," Draco said. "That was when I suddenly realised she was my sister. My friend. I was so lonely all that time because the only people we could spend time with were other purebloods, and it was organised months in advance and we had to wear dress robes and it sucked. I was very bored. So after that day I spent all my time with Cary. That's what I called her. Carina is a constellation, you know, just like my name. If I ever have children I think I'll name them after constellations too. Cassiopeia, Scorpius, Leo, stuff like that." He stared off into the distance for a second, then returned to the story. "Cary worshipped me, and I was the most overprotective big brother ever."

"I can imagine that." Hermione could. After a second, Draco stood up, pulled open one of his drawers, and got something out of it. He passed it over to Hermione, and there it was – a photo of them. A little white haired boy, his face creased in concentration, was drawing an exaggerated face of make up on a little girl swathed in grown-ups robes and jewellery, her feet awkwardly swamped by high heels that were clearly her mother's. She looked at her brother with pure devotion in her little-girl eyes.

"She loved to play dress-ups," Draco said matter-of-factly. "I'd play whatever she wanted. In return, I'd always get her to sit in one place for me while I drew her – I loved the portraits at our house, I wanted to be a painter when I grew up. I did very good stick-figures of her," he said with a flicker of humour. "She loved them, anyway. My father didn't, when he found out – no son of _his_ would be an artist! He took them away, burned them all."

"Really?" Hermione must have sounded horrified, because Draco looked at her with gentle amusement.

"He wanted what was best for me, that wasn't it. Besides, he was stressed out at that point, because Cary hadn't shown any signs of magic and he was terrified she'd be a squib. Our family couldn't have handled a squib, and we couldn't have lost Cary," he took the photo back from her and tucked it carefully away in the drawer again. "But anyway, last year I opened a cabinet at the manor and there were all my pictures. He hadn't burned a single one, they were just stored there with all these photos of us. For safekeeping. I know what you think of my parents -"

"I don't -" Hermione started to say, but Draco interrupted her.

" – But they really loved us, both of us. They were warm and fun, and no matter how busy they were, my father would always give us 'broom rides' where he'd toss us in the air and catch us, and my mother would make enough cookies to feed an army; we used to make the house-elves eat the extra. She'd scold us for that and chase us around trying to attack us with tickles. My father used to enter the room and take our side, telling her that she shouldn't bother making cookies at all, that's what the elves were for, and she'd stick her tongue out at him, and he'd tickle her. My father might have been a retired Death Eater and a complete bastard, but that was strictly his day job back then." He smiled at the past. Hermione couldn't imagine Lucius and Narcissa doing anything like that, so she stayed quiet. "They weren't… cold… then. That happened after Cary…" He stopped speaking.

"What happened?" Hermione said. Her voice was soft. She had the feeling he really needed to speak about it. He looked so _sad_ it made her regret bringing this up at all, just because of her own stupid curiosity.

"When I was ten, all we could talk about was Hogwarts. Cary was going to stow away in my suitcase – we thought as soon as everyone realised how smart she was, and how she was a pureblood and a Malfoy, they'd let her in even though she was too young." He laughed sadly. "We were very, very arrogant. She probably wouldn't have liked you, she was just as prejudiced as me – it's how we were raised. She was still sweet, though. Used to rescue wounded birds and chase butterflies and pick flowers, all that kind of stuff – I used to tease her, say she was too girly to make it at Hogwarts. But then Cary just said I'd be there to take care of her. My parents used to get very angry when we brought it up, because by that point they were terrified – Cary was eight by then, very intelligent and lovely, but still hadn't shown the tiniest sign of magical ability."

"_Was_ she a squib?" Hermione reached for his hand, and he let her take it.

"No, she wasn't. About four months before I went to Hogwarts, my mother was yelling at me for breaking one of her vases, and we heard this enormous crash from one of the other rooms. She'd shown her first sign of magic,' Draco said, his voice slightly shaky. "A small explosion – it must have been at a weak point, because it brought the whole damn bookshelf down on her, and that bookshelf was very solid. _Very_ solid. She didn't have a chance. The Healers couldn't do anything – it was no one's fault – we buried her in a nice ceremony, my mother put away the pictures of her, only a few people outside of the family even knew how many kids my parents had, and so that was the end of it. And my mother was emotionless – ice cold – and my father and I were so damn angry that if I weren't good at control my untrained magic would have blown up the house."

Hermione squeezed his hand, feeling sick at heart. "And then you went to Hogwarts."

"And then I went to Hogwarts." Draco smiled. It was not a nice smile. "I took out my anger with hexes and nasty pranks, my father took out his anger by releasing basilisks, and my mother visited my sister's grave daily and ignored everyone she knew. There's only a handful of people – all of them purebloods – who even remember I had a sister."

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered. She cuddled against him, hugging him. After a moment's stiffness he relaxed against her, moving closer, until they were just sitting there comforting each other. It was probably the most platonic gesture they'd ever shared.

He pulled back after a minute. "Ask another question."

"Um, okay. What was your best holiday ever?"

"Hawaii," Draco responded instantly. "Bikinis, sunlight, tropical fish. It was like the anti-Britain." The change of mood was palpable.

"Do you know anything I don't know about Isabelle's plan that you can tell me?" Hermione said, her thoughts suddenly and inexplicably flying back to the real world.

Draco thought about it. He could tell her about the spell on Weasley… but no, he couldn't. Isabelle would end up in Azkaban. He ignored the tiny voice in his head that pointed out that he also had his own selfish reasons for wanting Weasley to keep acting like a complete tool. "…No."

His pause gave him away. "You do," she breathed out slowly. "You can tell me something."

"I can," he admitted unwillingly. "But I won't. Please, 'Mione, just let me deal with this part on my own, okay? Please."

"All right," Hermione said. She was not at all pleased he was lying to her straight after promising to tell her whatever she wanted to know, but she loved him. "If that's what you want."

Draco stood up. "It's nearly time for us to get to the Headmistress's office for the Portkey. We should get going."

"Wait," Hermione stood up as well. "Aren't you forgetting something?" She smiled at him, soft lips arching into a provocative curve.

Draco leaned towards her, capturing her mouth slowly and exquisitely. He broke away after a few seconds. "You know, I've heard good things about the beds in this hotel," he suggested wickedly.

"I just bet you have," Hermione leaned in and kissed him again. "Well, the sooner we get there, the sooner we'll find out." Just as he opened the door, she said again, "I love you."

"How could you not?" Draco said arrogantly, then laughed as she threw one of her books at him and he caught it. "Fine, fine. I love you too."

* * *

**Friday, Saturday and Sunday are all probably going to need two chapters each to tell them fully. So stay tuned for the next chapter, which will start where this leaves off and go to the end of the day. They're going to have an action-packed weekend, guys.**

**The Draco-tells-the-truth scene turned out really long, I hope it isn't too boring. It also meant I couldn't mention all the other characters - but trust me, they'll all be involved in the fun-packed Friday afternoon.**

**Oh my god. I wrote this chapter A WEEK AGO and I've been trying to put it in since then, but I kept getting flashed "Error Number 2". I'd nearly given up on this story when it worked again today.**


	23. Drive

_Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there_

_With open arms and open eyes_

-Incubus

* * *

"Wow, we're late," Hermione said, glancing up at the clock in the Slytherin Dungeon as they made their way through it. "We'll have to run."

"Why?" Draco said reasonably. "It's not like they'll leave without us."

The clear selfishness of that remark caused Hermione to glare at him, but it was obvious from Draco's expression that he couldn't comprehend anything wrong in what he'd said. He might be discovering morals, but he was hardly a pet puppy-dog – he was a Slytherin, and a pureblood, and a Malfoy, and they were three good reasons to be arrogant. They would, after all, wait for him.

Hermione started nearly jogging, forcing him to stride out.

At the entry way to the Dungeons, Draco was knocked off his feet by a quick-moving Astoria, who managed to stumble into him in a very convincing way. Only Draco, who knew how graceful she could be, raised an eyebrow at that. Hermione, already halfway through the wall, swivelled her head to look at what was happening.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Astoria said quickly, helping Draco up. She brushed down his robes, looking embarrassed and also slightly harassed. The angle Hermione was at meant she couldn't see the slip of paper that found its way from Astoria's hand to Draco's pocket. "Really, my mistake. I'm such a klutz."

"I'll tell your parents you need more etiquette lessons," Draco said coldly, keenly aware of Hermione watching with jealousy in her eyes. He debated whether to just pull out the paper now and inform Astoria that Hermione could hear anything he could, but common sense stopped him.

For all he knew, Astoria had found out about the Imperius Curse and was warning him, or telling him about something else illegal Isabelle had done. If he showed Hermione, she'd go to the authorities, and Isabelle would be arrested. As well as himself, Blaise, and Astoria; if the whole story came out, they would probably count as accomplices – at the very least they'd be thrown out of school. Plus, Draco had done a few illegal things under his own steam (Veritaserum, anyone?) which he had no desire to see made public.

"And I'll tell your parents that you're a mudblood lover," Astoria said back, playing the scene. That was Astoria, after all: had to be dramatic.

Draco rolled his eyes and followed Hermione. "Will she actually… tell your parents?" Hermione said hesitantly, her breath coming quickly as she started walking even faster down the corridor.

"Course not," Draco said, with an insouciant shrug.

"I just don't want you to get in trouble," Hermione said quietly, not looking at him. She dodged a few Ravenclaws, who gawked at them.

"I'm always in trouble," Draco said, not sounding particularly bothered. He had no idea what she was talking about, as a matter of fact. Draco grabbed her hand, lifting it to his mouth to give the back a playful kiss. "At least this trouble's fun."

Hermione yanked her hand away, glaring at him. He loved how adorable she looked, all mussed hair and red face. "Stop it. Someone might see. Oh, Merlin, we're _so late_."

Draco rolled his eyes yet again. "Twenty minutes is nothing. Honestly, they're probably all drinking tea and giggling about how they defeated the Dark Lord. I bet they're having a great time."

* * *

They were in hell.

Harry fidgeted impatiently. Hermione and Malfoy were both late, and the hostile environment was getting to him. Firstly, there was Ron, who upon entry had gone to the far side of the room, glaring at Harry and muttering under his breath. However, his antipathy paled in light of Ginny and Isabelle, who kept addressing each other in the saccharine tone a girl uses when she's one step away from stabbing someone with a dessert spoon.

And then, of course, there was the Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, who hadn't stopped tapping her feet and looking pointedly at the clock on the wall since it had clicked past 2:50. She was making Harry highly annoyed and nervous, especially since her occasional glowers his way made it very clear that she thought he'd given Hermione the wrong time. Why else, after all, would Hermione Granger be late?

"Twenty minutes past three," Professor McGonagall said coldly. "Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy are extremely tardy, aren't they, Potter?"

"I told her three," Harry said, a touch crankily. He'd saved the whole freaking world, hadn't he? He could manage to hand on a message without screwing it up.

"I believe you, Harry," Isabelle said in a too-loud voice, refusing to look at Ginny. Isabelle wasn't normally so obvious, but Ginny's unsubtle hints that she knew something were making her tense. She wanted to make the Weaselbitch pay. Isabelle grabbed Harry's hand and squeezed it. "After all, love is faith."

"Pass the sickbag," Ginny murmured. Out loud, she said sarcastically, "Isn't that cute."

"Uh," Harry said weakly. He tried to detach his hand from Isabelle's, but she held tight. "Ow!"

"You're about to amputate some of his fingers," Ginny observed, almost amused.

"Sorry," Isabelle batted her eyelashes shyly at Harry, flushing slightly. She released his hand. "Want me to kiss it better?"

"Er, no," Harry said, trying not to turn bright red. He took a small step away from Isabelle. This was definitely not the way to make up with Ginny. He should have just broken up with Isabelle already, not planned to do it after this weekend. He was a moron, but it was too late to fix it now.

"Twenty-two minutes past three," McGonagall said, complete with another glare in Harry's direction. "Mr Weasley, come over here and stop staring at my desk. The NEWT answers are not there."

Ron came over to stand beside them. "We should just leave without them," he said coolly, "After all, they're late. And it's not like they're necessary."

"They were invited, they were accepted, therefore they're necessary," she snapped.

"They both had a major part in the defeat of the Dark Lord," Ginny said, with a look at Isabelle that made her meaning insultingly clear. "_That's_ why they're necessary."

"Well, by that logic none of us are necessary but _The Chosen One_," Ron practically spat the words out. "After all, we all know he's going to claim all the credit. Is that why you got Neville not to come? So you could say you killed that bloody great snake?"

"Yes," Harry snapped back, angry, "And then I thought I'd claim that I invented a broom that can reach Mars. What is your _problem_?"

"Yes, Ron, what's the problem?" Ginny interjected unexpectedly, staring at Ron in surprise. Harry realised she hadn't seen Ron's huge blow-up the other day. She reached the obvious conclusion about his anger. "Is this about Fred? Because he wouldn't want you to be mad at Harry -"

"Of course he wouldn't," Ron said, even colder, "He loved Harry. _Everyone_ loves _Harry Potter_, don't they? I mean, that's why _you're_ defending him, isn't it, Ginny? He cheats on you, dumps you, makes the whole school hate you, and you're still pathetically in love with him. Following him around drooling. Writing lovesick poems about his green green eyes -"

"Shut _up_," Ginny hissed, her eyes flashing, "Ron, your bastard. How dare you -"

"Sorry we're late," Hermione popped unexpectedly into the room, breathless. "I'm so sorry, really. It's all my fault -"

"Hardly," Draco drawled, entering the room behind her. If he'd hurried, it didn't show in his voice or demeanour. "Completely my fault. Believe me." He smiled wickedly.

"I have no problems at all believing you," retorted Professor McGonagall, who wasn't affected at all by his devilish smile. She looked highly stressed. "Right, hands on the Portkey, everyone."

"Why do I get the feeling we interrupted something highly entertaining?" Draco wondered, taking in the flushed, angry faces arrayed around the table. Nevertheless, he put his hand on plate she was using as a Portkey.

"All right," McGonagall said sternly. "None of you are to upset anyone or damage anything. You are representing Hogwarts school -"

"I thought I was representing the Death Eaters," Draco remarked in an undertone. Hermione considered kicking him in the shin.

"-And I will be _very angry_ if any of you make the school look bad. Understood?" she stared at Draco, obviously intending the message to be mainly for him. She waited for him to look away, and when he didn't, her frown increased. "_Understood_?"

"It's unfair to target Draco," said Hermione hotly. She couldn't help wanting to defend him. "It's not like the rest of us haven't caused plenty of damage before."

Professor McGonagall blinked, obviously surprised. Hermione Granger disagreeing with her was like the sun suddenly turning blue – and also, calling a Death Eater by his first name? Highly unusual. Nevertheless, she swallowed her evident confusion and replied icily. "That's certainly true."

"I haven't," objected Isabelle.

"Goody-goody," Ginny said, just loudly enough for the others to hear. When everyone looked at her, she shrugged. "Well, come on. Anyone who hasn't destroyed an entire building sometime hasn't had any fun with their magic at all."

McGonagall looked highly unimpressed, though Hermione noticed that Harry was trying to hold back a laugh. Probably remembering the massive amounts of destruction they'd caused before. Normally accidentally.

"Are we going to go now?" Draco wanted to know. "I hate waiting around."

As the other members of the party looked at him in indignation, McGonagall sighed, raised her wand, and said "_Portus_."

Harry just had time to grab his bag before the world spun.

* * *

"I can't believe we're missing the whole thing," Blaise sulked. "I mean, I at least thought Isabelle would arrange for us to be there, somehow. It's the end of this whole stupid game and we're going to miss it."

Astoria raised her eyes from the book she was reading. They'd abandoned the checkers a while ago. "How on earth did you think Isabelle was going to get us invited to this? We had nothing to do with the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Blaise was side-tracked by this for a second. "You know, for one who must not be named, he has a lot of names. You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Dark Lord, V-Voldemort, Tom Riddle, the Heir of Slytherin…" he subsided when Astoria returned her attention to the book, clearly bored. "Right. Fine. Back to the point. I don't know how, I just thought she would. She's the one acting like she has god-like powers."

"Well, she helps those who help themselves," Astoria replied in a bored tone.

It took a moment for this to sink in. "You… you don't mean?"

"At the end of the game – whatever the end is – we'll be there," Astoria promised, "It's all organised. I just organised it, Isabelle doesn't have a clue."

"But won't she be happy we're coming to help?" Blaise said doubtfully.

Astoria snorted. "A control freak like Iz? Not a chance. And I didn't say we were going to _help_. I mean, it's your choice if you want to. I was thinking of just watching the fireworks. Much more fun."

* * *

"Well, this is fun," Harry said foolishly, sneaking a look at a very unimpressed Ginny.

Clearly whoever was organising this had a sense of humour – the room Harry was assigned to was the honeymoon suite, and placed precisely halfway between Ginny's room and Isabelle's. They'd also put Hermione's room directly across the hallway from him. Apparently, the organiser believed fervently that Harry was going to get lucky with _someone_, so it might as well be easy for the girl in question to sneak into his room.

Of course, they hadn't known about the facts of the matter: one of the beauties was like his sister, another one he felt only mild affection for, and the last hated him right now.

Ginny glared at him. "Of course. This whole weekend will be a barrel of laughs." Right before she'd entered her room, Isabelle had remarked in a loaded voice to Harry that she'd see him later. Ginny wanted to break something. Maybe Harry's neck.

Harry winced at the scathing sarcasm in her voice. "Gin, I don't – I thought we were going to be friends now."

"And I thought I said we could never be friends."

"But you're acting like we're enemies," Harry was quick to point out, "You also promised we'd never be enemies. I'm sorry about everything -"

"You're _sorry_?" Ginny laughed, a short, hard sound. She could feel the anger building up inside her. They were alone in the hallway, the others having all disappeared into their rooms. "Sorry? Really? About thinking I'd cheated on you, or about finding an instant replacement for me?"

"A – replacement?" Harry's jaw dropped. He'd honestly never thought of Isabelle quite like that.  
"What would you call her?" Ginny hissed, all of a sudden losing her icy composure. "Is she better than me? Prettier? More your type? More respectful? Easier? I can see why you traded up. What did I have to interest you, apart from my family?"

"Your… family?" Harry echoed stupidly. He felt like he was thinking through treacle, still, confused and lost. He had no idea it was the Will-Sapping Potion Isabelle had given him earlier, slowing down his brain to the point where it really was like trying to move through quicksand. Nevertheless, a second later he got what she meant. "You think I wanted you for your _family_? Ginny, no! No way!"

"Then why?" she said, daring him to answer. Her insecurities and anger all melded together, until she felt crushed by the weight of them. "If not my family, then _what_? Hermione's prettier than me, smarter, too. Knows you better. There are plenty of girls who'd do whatever you said – you could get any of them if you wanted. I always knew you were just with me because my last name was _Weasley_ and I had red hair. I'm not beautiful enough for it to be anything else." Ginny let out a choked, disbelieving little laugh – she'd never believed she would actually tell him that.

Harry stood silent for a second, searching for the words. "When you fly," he said finally, "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Your face lights up – your hair gets in your face – you grin – your eyes even get more, more _brown_. It's amazing. The same when you're fighting someone," he swallowed hard, trying to verbalise his thoughts. "And when you kiss me, too. You're like a… a vital force or something. Like you change the whole room. Like you give off light." Harry felt vaguely foolish as soon as he stopped talking, but ploughed on a second later anyway when she didn't respond. "You think I love you because you're a _Weasley_? I knew you for five years as Ron's little sister before I woke up and saw that you were incredible, and when I kissed you it was _in spite _of your family, not because of them. I knew if I dated you, Ron might hate me – I knew when we broke up, your parents might hate me. I knew that I could lose all of them and _I didn't care_ because you're worth it. And now I have lost all of them, I even got a Howler from your mother the other day, and I still don't care because it was worth it."

Harry took a deep breath and continued. Ginny seemed to be in shock. Perhaps she'd noticed that he said "I _love _you", instead of "I _loved_ you". "Replace you? Isabelle's not a replacement. Who the hell could replace you? She's like a… like a bandage, or something. Or a paracetamol – you hurt me, or I _thought_ you hurt me, anyway, and I just needed to stop hurting. _Replace_ you?" Harry repeated, and it nearly came out like a sob. "Give me a fucking break. Who could replace you? I'm going crazy just trying to get through knowing you hate me now, knowing you're with Zabini, knowing how much I destroyed everything."

Harry spun around and walked to his door. Anger, tension and misery was in every line of his pose, from the hands shoved resentfully in his pockets to the hunched position of his shoulders. Ginny walked towards him, feeling slightly unreal. Was this what it felt like, to love someone and hate them a little at the same time? No wonder Hermione had been so tense for so long.

"Harry," she said, her voice soft. He turned around. She reached up, like in a dream, and took his glasses off. She leaned in and kissed him, as light as a feather. Then she pulled away. "I don't hate you." Harry was in a relationship with her enemy – this was all she could give him right now, and frankly Ginny wasn't sure he deserved this much. "And I'm not with Blaise."

Ginny placed his glasses carefully in his right hand, and walked to her own temporary room, not looking back.

Neither noticed that Isabelle had silently opened the door to her room, and been watching the entire time, confusion as well as anger in her eyes.

* * *

"Maybe we should go do something," Hermione suggested, feeling oddly shy. They were in Draco's room. "The interviews don't start officially until tomorrow. We could look around."

"We could," Draco agreed gravely, hidden amusement lurking in his eyes. He stalked towards her, a small smile playing over his lips, and she stepped back nervously, nearly bumping into the bed.

"Listen, we can't…" Hermione started to say, trailing off.

"Oh." Draco stopped moving, understanding flickering in his eyes. "I understand. You want to take it slower -" It was, he supposed, the normal response to re-starting a relationship.

"What? No, I don't," Hermione said quickly. _This_ _is what's so irresistible about him_, she thought, a little irritated by how easily his feelings impacted hers. _One minute he's the most arrogant, sexy guy in the whole world, and then suddenly he has this tortured, insecure expression that makes you want to take care of him. Not fair! _"I don't want to take it slow. I like it fast."

Draco snorted. It took Hermione a second to realise what she'd said, and then she flushed. "You know what I meant!" she snapped irritably. "It's just, we can't… right now. They could come to get us for dinner at any moment."

Draco just looked at her in disbelief. "It's barely even four. We have plenty of time."

"You don't know that," Hermione blushed even harder at the thought. "What if someone came in to get you and found us… like that?"

"Naked and sated?" Draco supplied helpfully, unable to suppress a snicker that made his beloved glare at him.

"Imagine the article they'd write," Hermione winced, imagining it.

"Teens Found Naked, by Y Knott," Draco helpfully said, nodding his head sagely. "They might include a diagram of your body, labelled. And mine too of course. The porn industry will see them, and hire us. We'll slide into a destructive cycle of pixie dust and breast enhancements, and call ourselves names like Sexy von Schmerz and Kitten Sexdream. I'd be Kitten, obviously. Then we could retire and tour the country explaining how much we regretted giving into our desires and -"

"Shut up!" Hermione laughed at the absurdity, then grabbed a pillow and whacked him with it.

"Ow," he said sadly, staring up at her with fake-wounded eyes. "That hurt." Then he grinned.

Hermione hit him again, and the pillow he'd managed to sneak came up to block her. Then he whacked her in the chest with it and the fight was on.

Feathers flew through the air as they fought, parrying and attempting clever blows as if they were in a duel. Every time Draco said "En garde!" Hermione giggled so hard she nearly fell over. After a few minutes of this, Hermione managed to tackle Draco, hitting him about the head with her pillow rather desperately. Attempting to get away, he accidentally fell off the bed, dropping his weapon. Hermione couldn't stop giggling as he held up his hands in a defenceless way.

"Surrender," Hermione finally managed to gasp out, holding her pillow in a threatening manner over him.

"Never, Granger," Draco said threateningly. She brought the pillow down on him but he managed to pull it out of her hands, and hit her in return. Hermione dived for the ground, trying to get away and rearm.

"Hey!" Hermione grabbed another pillow, but found herself unarmed again when he pulled this away too. Grinning in victory, Draco pulled himself to his knees and crawled towards her. Desperately, Hermione tried to scoot back, but her positions meant she couldn't move as fast.

"Halt," Draco said threateningly. "Surrender, Granger, or prepare to… regret not surrendering."

"Yeah, right," Hermione managed.

Draco smiled, and kissed her softly, his mouth coming down over hers with aching tenderness. Hermione clutched herself to him, losing herself in the kiss, and then when he least expected it, whacked him in the head with the pillow he'd been holding. He pulled away and raised an eyebrow.

"_Breast enhancements_?" she said questioningly, looking pointedly down at her own chest.

"I meant for me," Draco responded, looking completely serious. "I would feel inferior in the porn industry otherwise."

"Whatever you say, Kitten," Hermione said jokingly, pulling him down to kiss her again. She loved the brief windows when he was like this – so relaxed, funny and absurd that it impossible for her not to smile at him. When he could laugh at himself, and her, and the whole world, and he looked at her with that light in his eyes and she knew he was absolutely happy, just for a few moments.

Of course, he wasn't like Ron or Harry. For Draco, she'd noticed, happiness was hard to attain and even harder to sustain. It wasn't an easy thing. It was like he had to put an effort into it. Strange. But then, wasn't that one of the reasons she'd fallen for him? Draco would never be simple or easy to understand, he was a puzzle she couldn't solve.

So she kissed him, hard, trying to keep that beautiful light in his eyes. Unfortunately, just as she began working at the buttons on his shirt, a knock came at the door. _BANG, BANG. _Hermione was so startled she let out a little squeak.

"It's fine," Draco said, a little breathlessly. "I'll protect you from the evil door-knocker." He gently moved her off him and to the side, and walked over to the door, opening it just widely enough so the person could see his face. He talked quietly to whoever it was, before returning to Hermione. He grabbed her hands and pulled her upright.

"What?" said Hermione, her smile dying.

"Dammit, why do you always have to be right?" he said teasingly. "Interrupted already. We have to go."

"Why?"

"Apparently, we're getting to know everyone," Draco said cheerfully. "This is going to be hilarious."

* * *

"Hello, everyone," Harry said, pointedly refusing to look at either the two journalists or the instructor. "I'm Harry Potter, as all of you _know_. Most of you have known me for seven years or more."

"Remember, dear," the instructor, whose name was Gladys, said scoldingly. "You have to give everyone details. That will help this weekend be a bonding and healing process as well as an interview!"

"Why are you even here?" Harry said, sounding even more annoyed now. "Why do we need a therapist and group bonding sessions?"

"Just the one session," Gladys corrected, with a benign smile. She was a short, plump woman in her thirties, wearing a dress patterned with dancing scissors and a matching turban which gave Harry the willies. After all, his experience of turbans wasn't very good. "It's so you and these two lovely writers can _bond_, so the questions asked and answers given will be more _honest_ and _useful_."

Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it again, apparently realising he had nothing to say. Unlike the battle against Voldemort, this was one he couldn't win. "Fine," he grumbled. "I'm a Leo, I love Quidditch, I'm and only child and an orphan."

"And I understand you're in a relationship?" Gladys smiled.

"Well…yes," Harry snuck a look around the circle of people. Isabelle met his gaze and gave him an encouraging smile, and Hermione rolled her eyes in sympathy for him. Ginny didn't look up at all, apparently finding the floor fascinating. "Sort of."

"_Sort of_?" Isabelle said dangerously.

"Er, whose turn now?" Harry said hastily, turning to look at the person to his right.

He was tall and skinny, with white hair and dramatic glasses, and he was cradling a camera in his lap like it was a child. After him was Gladys, and then Hermione. "I'm Bert," he said, pointing unnecessarily at the name-badge on his shirt. "Photographer. And I don't see the point of this. Can't we just do the damn interviews?"

"Shut up," his partner hissed from across the circle. She bore a nametag that said 'Gwen'. Her pen hadn't stopped scribbling since they'd sat down. "This is great stuff. Not you, obviously, Bert. Can we skip to the next?"

"My name's Gladys, and I hate this job," Gladys remarked, still cheerful. "So much that sometimes I dream of making the roof fall down onto the top of everyone. This is just one rung of the ladder to being a respected therapist to me, but everyone's so – oh, wait, you meant skip to her, didn't you?"

"Yes," said Gwen, stopping writing in order to glare at the jolly little therapist. "Hermione, why don't you tell us about yourself?"

"My name is Hermione," she announced in a monotone. "I'm with Bert, really, this is just dumb. Fine!" she added, when Gwen glared at her. "I love reading, long walks on the beach, candlelit dinners, and making sock puppets."

"Sock puppets, dear?" Gladys interjected, apparently determined to regain control from Gwen.

"It's the little button eyes," Hermione said, completely deadpan. "They have so much love in them." Draco stifled a snort, and both Harry and Ginny laughed out loud. Ron just glowered from his place two seats away from Hermione.

"And you're involved with Mr Malfoy, aren't you?" Gwen said smoothly.

Hermione hesitated. She imagined Draco impoverished, cast out of his family. "No, that's just a rumour. No truth in it at all."

Across the circle, Draco tried to hide his wince. After all, he should have expected that she didn't want their relationship made public – he was a confirmed Death Eater, the villain of this little piece. It could only damage her reputation to admit to being involved with him. He couldn't blame her for wanting to keep him a secret, could he?

It hurt to know she was ashamed of him, though, even if it made sense.

"Oh," Gwen looked visibly disappointed. Gladys tried to speak, but Gwen cut her off yet again. "Who are you involved with, then?"

"Every guy at school," Ron said immediately. "And a few of the girls."

Hermione turned bright red. "_Ron!_"

"Slut," Ron responded almost manically. "Sorry, was I supposed to cough? Slut," he coughed the word out. Draco hit him hard on the back with his fist three times in a row, causing Ron to splutter and whine in pain.

"Has your coughing fit stopped?" Draco drawled. "I'm so glad. Why don't you tell them about your relationship, Ronnie?" he smiled seraphically at Gwen, who blushed slightly. Hermione glared at her. "He calls her Daisy. Professor Sprout used to let him keep her in the Herbology sheds but she kept eating all the lettuce -"

"Bastard!" Ron said, still choking slightly.

"Sorry, do you need some more help?" Draco replied, lifting his fist helpfully. Ron scooted away.

"Right, I think we've finished this game, dears," Gladys said hurriedly. "Why don't we practise throwing this ball to each other and naming positive things about ourselves?"

* * *

"I think my favourite part," Draco said dreamily, many hours later when he was lying beside Hermione in bed, "Was when the Weaselette and Isabelle got paired together in that blindfolded game."

"That was horrible, they had to see a Healer before dinner," Hermione said, yawning. "Personally I thought the best part was dinner. At least everyone was friendly there."

Draco hugged her closer. "Oh, yes, you were down the other end from me, weren't you? I ended up having to smear chili in your ex-boyfriend's eyes when he tried to brain me with the salt shaker."

"I wondered why he was crying," Hermione remarked, too sated and happy to be annoyed. "And he was never my boyfriend."

"Then he tried to kick me in the shins and got the Weaselette, who thought it was Isabelle and called her the bitch-slut from hell. Then Isabelle cried pitifully and wrapped herself around Pothead, who tried to untangle her and accidentally tipped a whole cheesecake into his own lap," Draco smiled mistily. "I can't believe you weren't watching. This has been one of the funniest nights of my life."

"You had to go the Healer after dessert," Hermione pointed out.

Draco waved it away. "So I got accidentally stabbed with a butter knife. Honestly, this is like vacation time with the Bobbitt family, it's hilarious. I love it."

Hermione laughed sleepily. "Glad you're enjoying it." She yawned again, louder. "Remember… you have to be in your own room… by morning…" Hermione's eyes slid shut.

"I will," Draco promised. He kissed her temple, checked to see her breathing was still consistent with sleep, and then got stealthily out of bed. He managed to get to his discarded robe silently, and pulled out the piece of paper Astoria had slipped him earlier. He couldn't read it in the dark, so after a moment's thought went and used the bathroom light.

_D,_

_Slughorn's fire is operational, and no longer warded. Contact at 0100. It's important. We won't have long._

_Do not bring the princess._

_A._

Draco frowned, and checked the time. Nearly twelve. Well, at least he had _some _time to lie besides Hermione first.

* * *

**So, do you like? Sorry it took a whole.**


	24. Trust

_I would put my life in your hands, but not my heart._

John Crighton, _Farscape_

* * *

"I don't get it," Isabelle said, spinning her wand in her hands. She looked honestly bewildered. "She should hate him. Why doesn't she hate him?"

'I think you're completely insane," Ron said with conviction. He was currently free from the Imperius Curse, but still unable to do anything useful thanks to being bound by magic and unable to speak loudly. He'd already tried yelling, and struggling against his bonds, to no avail. He was also in Isabelle's room, and he couldn't help wondering what the others made of that.

Isabelle looked surprised at his statement, her soft lips parting momentarily, before she laughed. It even seemed genuine. "I suppose I must seem so, to you. I promise you I have very good reasons for what I'm doing."

"Well, of course you'd think so," Ron said, making a considerable effort to be patient and not start screaming again. "You're bonkers." Isabelle laughed again, and Ron continued, annoyed. "What _are_ your reasons, anyway? I'm assuming I'm not intended to be a sex slave?"

It was odd, knowing that he was under a spell – had been under a spell for a while now – but having no idea what he'd done. Oh, there were some hazy memories, and even some clear-cut and painful ones, but mostly he just felt confused and exhausted. Trying to fight this was taking everything he had, and it still wasn't enough. Harry could have – but he wasn't Harry, able to fight this kind of thing like it was easy. Instead it was exhausting him, destroying him piece by piece – it felt like he was fading into a mass of blurriness and a painful high-pitched voice that could not be disobeyed.

"You don't remember anything?" she asked, sounding only mildly curious. "How interesting. I intend to Memory Charm you anyway, but it's still interesting."

"That's why you took the spell off me?" Ron said incredulously. "To take away my memories?"

"Alter them," Isabelle said composedly. "And also to ask you some questions."

"I won't answer," Ron said immediately. Inside, he was fighting panic. It seemed like an unimaginable violation to him – to have your memories, your very essence stripped away. What if she made a mistake, and took away Hermione or Harry? Or Fred?

"Yes, you will," Isabelle said, looking suddenly both younger and older than she was. "You will, because otherwise you'll regret it. Don't make me hurt you." There was something in her eyes that made Ron believe her.

"Why are you _doing_ this?" Ron said in a faintly pleading tone. "Why do you hate me?"

"It's never been about you," Isabelle replied. "I don't hate you. Who could hate you? You'd be irrelevant to me, except you're his weak spot. You're Harry Potter's Achilles' Heel. You're an innocent victim, and sometimes they suffer." She sighed regretfully.

"Why?" Ron insisted stubbornly.

"Revenge," Isabelle stared down at her wand again. "When I was ten, my father took me to get this wand. He said I was deserving of the best wand possible, and he showed me how to cast my first spell with it. And now he's dead. Tradition in the purebred world is an ear for an ear. A death for a death."

All of a sudden, Ron felt so tired he wasn't sure he could find the energy to be scared by that last remark. "You must have loved him very much."

"I don't think I love anyone," remarked Isabelle. The comment sounded cold and lonely to Ron, the worst thing in the world. He couldn't imagine not being surrounded by love. It made him soften towards her slightly – or perhaps it was the isolation in her pale eyes, like that of a lonely, desolate little girl. "That's why I took off the curse temporarily. I need to understand… they're not acting like I thought they would. Why would your sister forgive Potter after everything? Why would she still care? Why do you all give each other so many chances, why doesn't Potter hate you for what you've said, why doesn't he hate Granger for what she's done? _Why_?" It was strange to her, bizarre, that she could inflict such deep wounds and yet these Gryffindors could mend them so fast. Was there something else here she didn't know about? Some… extra bond?

Ron suddenly understood that it didn't matter whether he answered this or not. It was, after all, like trying to explain the feeling of doing magic to a Muggle. It was something unexplainable. "Love," he replied. It wasn't something he normally would have said, but his exhaustion leant him a sort of weary wisdom. He didn't have the energy for cracking jokes right now.

"Love?" Isabelle snorted. "Right, go for the obvious answer, the trite cliché. I understand that. I just don't understand…why…to give everything… you all give yourselves away so… recklessly. So ruthlessly, carelessly, _foolishly_, like nothing else matters. You'd all throw away anything for it…" Isabelle could understand love (she thought), but she couldn't understand why it engendered this level of foolishness in them.

"I'm sorry," Ron said. It was becoming more difficult to speak, he felt so ridiculously tired. He saw Isabelle's eyes widen as his own slid shut, see the look of complete incomprehension on her face. "I'm sorry you don't get it."

He didn't see Isabelle narrow her eyes abruptly and pull out her wand, but he felt the shock of the spell as it hit him, taking away his memories and consciousness at the same time.

* * *

Astoria glared at the fireplace. It was already more than a quarter past one, and Draco still hadn't contacted her through the fire. It was as if he didn't get the seriousness of this – she had to talk to him in person, as Isabelle had probably found a way to monitor the owls going in and out of the hotel. She was sharp, after all, and rich enough to have bribed an employee there.

Slughorn's office had a spell on it to alert the Professor as soon as anyone entered – quite a nifty spell, and his pride in it had caused him to tell his students injudiciously. Therefore, Astoria had given him a nice bottle of firewhiskey earlier that ensured he would be in no state to hear the alarm. But if he sobered up before Draco contacted her…

"Hello," Draco's voice came from the fire.

Astoria started, then calmed herself. She surveyed her friend – his white-blonde hair was mussed up irresistibly, and she could see part of his bare upper body. It was the kind of view that made a girl think naughty thoughts, but Astoria didn't have time for that right now. "Nice of you to finally join me."

Draco sighed, the noise echoing through the fireplace. "What do you want, Astoria?"

"Information," Astoria said, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. "I want you to tell them I'm your guest when I get there, and also contact me when it's about to go down. I intend to be there, but I'd hate to arrive too early and get kicked out…"

"Or too late and miss it," Draco finished for her. "How are you planning to get here?"

Astoria hesitated. "I may have stolen a thestral and tied it up on the roof."

"You did _what_?" Draco couldn't help laughing. "That's a dangerous, stupid plan -"

"Only to get us quickly off school grounds, then Blaise will apparate us the rest of the way," Astoria rushed to explain.

"You want to include Blaise? This plan gets worse by the second. You've stolen a dangerous, undomesticated beast and expect to ride it, you're trusting _Zabini's_ apparating skills, and for that matter what do you intend to do when you get here? Jump out and yell 'surprise'?" Draco's scorn was unmistakeable.

Astoria cut her eyes at him. "What do _you _intend to do?" Draco was silent. "That's what I thought. You don't have a clue either. Isabelle's done some crazy shit before, but this is… something else."

"I'll take care of her," said Draco. "The last thing I need is the two of you running around, either _helping_ her or getting us all caught. You're a liability."

Astoria flushed a little, angry. "Draco. You have priorities. Yourself, and then your princess and her friends, and _then_ maybe Isabelle… but I just have the one priority here, and that's Isabelle. She's pretty much the only close friend I've ever had. And this is killing her. Have you seen her lately? She's lost half her bodyweight, she hasn't gone outside for weeks, she doesn't sleep and barely eats. Did you know she's started drinking every day? Not enough to be drunk, but still…" Astoria trailed off. Her voice went quieter. "She's scaring me. She must be scaring you."

Draco paused for a second. "Yes," he admitted. "Yes, she is. She's a mess. Alright, how do you want me to contact you when things start to go down? And how much time do you need?"

"I can be there in fifteen minutes after you alert me, probably," Astoria said thoughtfully. "And I was counting on you finding a way, hotshot."

"Let me think," Draco frowned. "Owls are probably being monitored, you can't hang around in Slughorn's office the whole weekend, and… do you still have that magical Galleon you stole?" At the end of the last year Astoria had managed to get her hands on one of the coins Dumbledore's Army had used so effectively. By then it was only a few days before Voldemort set up camp right outside, so she'd never had the chance to use it.

"Yes, but that's useless if you don't have one," Astoria said with exaggerated patience.

"It's a good thing I'm here with at least four members of that little group, then, isn't it?" Draco pointed out smoothly. "At least one has to be sentimental enough to have kept it. I'll check out their rooms."

"What if they catch you?"

"They won't," Draco smiled as his clever brain began to piece together ideas. "Because I'll be invisible."

* * *

When Hermione woke up, her first thought was _where's Draco?_ That had been her first thought every morning since they'd broken up, but she hadn't expected to think it since everything had been so beautifully repaired.

Well, almost repaired. Draco's attempt to be honest with her had bothered her a little. He was lying to her, keeping something from her – _but at least he's being honest about it_, she reminded herself with twisted amusement. _He's not lying about lying, that's something_. He'd asked her to trust him. Could she?

"Knock, knock," Draco's silky voice easily permeated the door.

Hermione yawned and invited him to enter, unlocking the door with a swish of her wand. "What's going on?"

Draco stepped into the room. Only someone paying as close attention as Hermione was would have noticed his eyes sweeping the room, like he suspected there was someone hidden. Eventually his gaze came to rest on her in evident appreciation. "Not a very polite greeting. I was expecting something more… poetic. Romantic."

"Draco, Draco, wherefore art thou?" Hermione joked. Still a little hazy from only just being woken up, she smiled up at him and pulled herself into sitting position. "Is that better? Are you here to join me?" She patted the bed next to her invitingly. She would have tried to look sexy, but knew perfectly well she'd just look stupid.

""I wish," Draco pouted exaggeratedly, making Hermione giggle. There was just something about seeing the impassive Draco Malfoy putting on a childlike expression… "But no. It's breakfast time and they sent me to get you. Honestly, they aren't very respectful of us war heroes -"

"War heroes?" Hermione echoed, amused. She started to get up, making a motion with her hand that he should turn around so she could have some privacy. When he – predictably – just raised an eyebrow, she scowled and climbed out of bed naked.

"Set times for breakfast, lunch and dinner," Draco continued his criticism, averting his gaze from Hermione to avoid getting distracted. "That journalist is -" Draco stopped, caught by a thought. "_The _journalist," he repeated thoughtfully.

Hermione stopped in the middle of pulling on the red velvet dress she'd decided on for today. "Draco? Is something wrong?"

"One journalist. Isn't that strange? I was expecting more," Draco stepped forward to help her do up the dress. She let him, enjoying the feel of his cool hands on her overheated skin. "You'd think there'd be more."

"You're right," Hermione said slowly, turning again to face him. "I hadn't thought about it, but you're right. This is the story of the year. She must have bribed a lot of people to be here… especially to be the only one here."

"Yes," Draco sounded equally thoughtful.

"I doubt it's what you think," Hermione said shrewdly, "She probably just wanted… well, the story of the year. I don't think it's anything to do with whatever weird plan your fellow Slytherins have on."

Draco shrugged. "I'd like to keep an eye on her anyway. And on Isabelle. That's why I was going to ask you a favour. I'm hardly spending any time being interviewed or photographed, so I was thinking you could borrow Potter's cloak and I could… look around."

"Spy on them," Hermione smiled, then winced as the brush snagged in her hair. "Dammit, that hurt."

"Here," Draco took the brush from her and started methodically brushing through her hair. There was something oddly touching about it. "So will you ask him? Say you need it for… oh, I don't know…"

"I'll say I need it to sneak to your room," Hermione said calmly, hiding her embarrassment at the prospect. She distracted herself by watching Draco deftly wield the brush and fantasising about kissing him arm and making them very late. "Trust me, he won't want _that_ conversation to last long."

"Good," Draco said, relieved.

"You can't be the only one doing it, though, or people will notice," Hermione stared at her reflection. She knew she should probably apply some cosmetics or something, but honestly couldn't be bothered. If she'd asked Draco he could have told her she looked just fine – her lips were reddened and swollen from his enthusiasm the night before, and her eyes shone with determination and renewed hope. "If you're missing all the time, I mean. Ginny and I will take turns too."

"Done," Draco put the brush on her temporary dresser. "We should go." He pulled her up so that they stood facing each other. He leaned in closer.

"So let's go," Hermione said breathlessly. Damn it, how could he always do this to her? She kissed him lightly, the faintest touch, unable to resist it, and they both pulled away with their hearts racing.

"I also think I should speak to some of the house-elves here," Draco said, striving to bring the conversation back to practicalities as they left her room. He was careful to lock it. They started walking down the hall together, and he tried not to be hurt she didn't take his hand. "It would be good to know another way out, just in case."

"Well, all hotels have contained spells against Apparating since it was turned into a legal requirement in 1948," Hermione said automatically. "Most, however, usually carry an emergency Portkey which is kept in a reasonably secure place, in case some kind of disaster occurs. This has been a common practice since the events of 1967 when -" Hermione cut herself off, realising she was lecturing.

"Don't stop," Draco said, smiling at her affectionately. He smiled a lot more, lately. "I love it when you reel off facts like that."

Hermione froze, staring at him. "You… like it?"

"It's adorable," Draco turned, realising she'd stopped moving. "What's the matter?"

Hermione knew her lecturing wasn't adorable. It wasn't funny, or interesting, or something _anybody_ liked. In fact, even her closest friends tended to waver between ignoring her or straight-out telling her to stop it.

There was only two explanations that made sense. Either he felt guilty, and was being extra-nice to make up for it, or he was still using her. Hermione couldn't imagine anyone complimenting her like this for any good reason. "Liar. What did you do? What aren't you telling me?"

"What?" Draco's expression hardened a bit.

"_Tell me_," Hermione ordered. "What is it?"

Draco grew angry – he'd actually been being sincere. It was rather ironic, really – he asked her to lie to her best friend to get the Invisibility Cloak so Draco could spy on people, and she was A-OK with that. However, he paid her a perfectly innocent compliment, and she reacted like he'd said she was beginning to resemble Voldemort. "Can't you just take a compliment?"

"Not when it's not a real one!"

"You have issues, you know that?" Draco snapped. "Stop being so paranoid." He strode out ahead. Hermione followed in sullen silence.

Draco wanted to tell her the whole truth, he really did. But he knew she'd object to Astoria and Zabini coming here, which would be reasonable but also inconvenient. And he couldn't even imagine telling her that Weasley was under the Imperius – she'd probably get all four Slytherins arrested.

Even if she would be willing to keep it a secret (hugely unlikely considering her love for the Weasel), all that would mean is that when they got caught she would get in trouble too. Covering up a crime. No, it was safer all round for Hermione and her Gryffindors to remain a little bit ignorant for as long as possible.

* * *

Blaise would never have admitted it, especially not to Astoria the Incredibly Smug, but he was a little relieved he and Ginny had broken up. Though when he thought that, he could also hear Astoria's snide voice pointing out it wasn't a _break-up_ by a long shot.

The thing was… the thing was… Ginny made him feel like he had to be a good person. But the trouble with being a good person was that he wasn't really designed for it, not full time anyway. In order to spend hours with Ginny, he had to be cheerful and sympathetic and good-natured for those hours. Correspondingly, Blaise was foul-tempered and nasty for the rest of his day from the strain.

"What are you thinking about?" Astoria said, peering over her Potions textbook with a smirk. She looked confused. "Wait, we never have free periods at the same time, shouldn't you be in class?"

"It's Saturday," Blaise growled. All right, so he could still be bad-tempered even when he hadn't spent time with Ginny. But then, it was such a stupid thing to say. It seemed Astoria's brain had fried from too many nasty comments.

"Oh, right, then I should still be sleeping. Oops." Astoria pulled the textbook up again to cover the fact that she was ogling guys instead of working. "Do you think that blonde over there is cute?"

"Since when did you start picking guys up in the library?"

"Since they migrated here to perve on Granger," Astoria sighed regretfully. "They don't seem to have realised she's not here right now. It's funny because most of the time she doesn't even realise they're hitting on her. She really does attract a ton of guys. It's shock value, of course, it'll wear off."

"Deal with it, Greengrass, she's prettier than you," Blaise said with satisfaction. "You're second-best now. Granger is prettier, smarter, more virtuous…"

"Also taken, and not nearly as sexy as I am," Astoria completed, not looking particularly bothered. "Sounds like you're working on a crush there, though, Blaisey-boy."

Blaise shot her a disgusted look. "Blaisey-boy? Really?"

"You don't like it?" Astoria widened her eyes in fake shock. "I thought you'd love it. Like you love Granger. Tell me, is it the scared virginal doe-eyes that do it, or the fact she's banging your man-crush Draco?"

"Shut up, you bitch," Blaise snapped.

"Hit a nerve there," Astoria remarked, impervious as always.

Blaise suppressed a smile. He couldn't help it, there was something funny about Astoria's utter indifference to his insult. "I hate Granger. Also, she's a mudblood. And even if she was pureblooded, she's still not my type."

"Pretty, smart, virtuous Granger? But why?"

"She's so bossy," Blaise complained. "Suspicious, nasty, snappy, talks way too much… if I was Draco I'd Silencio her every night. And she's such a know-it-all."

"So you go for stupidity?" Astoria smirked at him again.

"Of course not, then I'd be dating you," Blaise returned instantly.

"Touché," Astoria admitted the hit. "I wouldn't have thought Weasel-girl was particularly stupid – or quiet, really. She always seemed quite loud."

"I suppose," Blaise thought about it. "It's more that Ginny has very low self-esteem, I think. She'll always go along with what anyone else suggests, especially when she's depressed like she was while we were friends. That's probably why she hangs out with Granger so much."

"And probably why she dated the Chosen One," Astoria winked at the blonde guy, who looked thrilled to have caught her attention. His puppy-dog joy put her off a little. "I mean, he'd always be the one in charge. You can't exactly say to the saviour of our kind 'no, I don't want to get ice-cream, I'd like to get donuts', can you? Let alone telling him that 'touching me there is not erotic, it's just weird'." Astoria put on a high-pitched voice that Blaise guessed was supposed to be Ginny.

"She did say he'd stopped their relationship for months and months when he went to fight the Dark Lord, and she just went along with it."

"I'd have been dating another guy in minutes," Astoria looked away from the blonde guy, who she now realised wasn't as attractive as she'd thought. He was showing worrying signs that he might be about to come over.

Blaise laughed. "Astoria, you'd have been _under_ another guy in minutes."

She sneered at him. "You're completely wrong." She leaned in until she was nearly kissing his ear. "I prefer it on top."

Blaise jerked away, annoyed. "Exactly, and that's why you're not my type."

Astoria nodded wisely. "Riiight. You like little, submissive, obedient." Across the room, the blonde guy stood up, looking determined.

"What's wrong with that?" Blaise groaned. "Okay, don't answer that. I know you'll just go on about how I need an equal and blah blah blah."

"Blaise," Astoria said in a patronizing tone, about to start a wise if uninformed (and deliberately annoying) lecture about the nature of relationships, before interrupting herself, "Oh shit, he's coming over. Gotta go!"

* * *

Despite her annoyance with him, Hermione had procured the Invisibility Cloak for Draco. She'd pretty much thrown it at him after breakfast – a meal that Draco considered to have been nearly as funny as dinner last night.

Unseen, Draco ghosted towards Potter's room. He'd been the leader of the DA, and was therefore the most likely to still have one of the coins in Draco's estimation. If he'd brought it with him, anyway. Hopefully. Even Draco could admit this plan had more holes than Swiss Cheese.

Unfortunately, Harry was outside his room, talking to Ron.

"It was an accident," Ron didn't even try to sound sincere.

"You broke a plate over my head!"

Ron sniggered. "Your head got in the way. Hard not to, when it's that big."

"What is your _problem_?"

Draco rolled his eyes and walked by, glad not to get involved. Weasley had also tried to tip cereal in his lap, and Draco had not only avoided it but also gotten revenge by 'accidentally' spilling hot porridge in Weasley's lap. Draco had quite enjoyed his screams of agony until the photographer Bert had used a healing spell. Hermione, however, had not looked at all pleased – which was par for the course today.

He hated disappointing her. He hated even more that he was about to go through her luggage in the hopes of finding a bewitched coin.

He managed to open the door quietly and slip inside, unnoticed by Harry or Ron. Hermione was currently being interviewed, so at least he knew she was busy. Draco wished – not for the first time – that he'd just told Astoria to stuff it. He wasn't even sure why he trusted her to help, except that he knew she cared about him. If Draco was honest, he'd always known she felt something for him.

He wondered now whether he'd used her in the last few years – used her feelings for him to persuade her to help him, or to hide something he'd done. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done that with a girl, but it was certainly the first time he found it disquieting that he could do something like that.

Damn Hermione and her morals.

Draco opened her tiny handbag carefully. Just as he'd assumed, there was an undetectable extension charm on it. Inside there were about fifty books, which Draco found amusing. One of them was _Hogwarts: A History_, the book Draco had spent nearly all of sixth year reading and re-reading in his desperation to find loopholes in Hogwarts' defence. Careful not to unbalance the books, Draco felt around gingerly. Eventually he pulled out a wallet – a plain, nearly Muggle-style one, it's only concession to the different style of money was that it was slightly larger.

However, after he checked all of them, it was plain not a single Galleon in there was magical.

"Damn it," Draco said out loud, then flushed under the cloak. It was unlike him to be so careless. Anyone could hear him.

Draco went to put the small handbag back in its place by Hermione's bed and caught the aroma of her perfume on the breeze up to him. Suddenly he felt like he needed to see her immediately – as if she was the validation for what he was doing.

* * *

"Harry and I are really more like brother and sister," Hermione said, highly annoyed. This annoying woman – _Gwen_ – kept straying off the facts of what had happened and into uncomfortable territory. Besides anything else, she seemed to think Hermione had been involved with every single boy in every single story.

"Yes, but flying on a _hippogriff_ together," Gwen said serenely. "That sounds… romantic. Flying through the air, the moonlight -" Behind her, the door silently opened and closed, as if propelled by a slight wind.

"There was a lot of moonlight," Hermione snapped. "Because it was a _full moon_. Which is why we had a werewolf running around." Honestly, she didn't have a clue why they were looking back this far – she'd been under the impression that these interviews were for the events of the last year, but every time she mentioned that this repellent woman said it was necessary background. Since they'd been guaranteed protection from any consequences for anything illegal they'd done over the years (breaking into Gringotts, making Polyjuice Potion, helping a convicted felon…) there was no reason not to tell at least most of the truth, but Hermione still didn't like it.

"No romance at all?"

Tempted to reply that she'd been _thirteen_ for Merlin's sake, Hermione instead nodded sagely. "Well, I always felt that was the night when Harry and Buckbeak really formed a close _bond_, you know. From then they were inseparable. Rowing together, reading poetry to each other, moonlight walks, feeding each other chocolates…" Hermione stopped, incredulous. "Why are you writing? I'm _kidding_."

"Right," said Gwen unconvincingly, "I knew that." She cleared her throat while Hermione questioned the intellect required to be a journalist. "Is that what you're relationship with Draco Malfoy is like? Moonlight walks and chocolate?"

_Mainly wild animal sex. _Hermione bit her tongue before the snarky response could come out – too close to the truth. "I told you, we don't have a relationship."

Gwen blinked at her innocently. "What about Ron Weasley?"

"Oh, him and Draco have a great relationship," Hermione said, almost manically, about to start the list of romantic activities again. "They go rowing toge-"

"Stop deliberately wasting my time," snapped Gwen. "Be honest. What are your feelings towards Mr Weasley?"

"We're very close, most of the time," Hermione said, deciding straight answers would probably get this over with much faster.

"You seemed antagonistic towards each other, earlier," Gwen remarked. "Hidden lust? Hurt feelings? A failed love affair?"

"Ron's just going through a rough time," Hermione rubbed her forehead. Now she was getting a headache.

"Him and Mr Malfoy also seem to have a very antagonistic relationship."

"Let me guess, you think they also have hidden lust?"

Gwen ignored her. "What are your feelings towards Mr Malfoy?"

"I don't have any feelings towards Malfoy," Hermione said, heartily sick of this witch by now. "Honestly, I wish everybody would let that go. I don't know why you're trying to turn this story into… I don't know… a soap opera or something, because it's not." _Well, except recently._

"And no feelings towards Harry Potter?"

"_Brother and sister_. Why does nobody get that?" Hermione bemoaned her terrible fate.

"What about Victor Krum?" Gwen asked hopefully, clearly determined to squeeze out some enthralling romance here.

"We're friends," said Hermione patiently. Also true – they had dated briefly, but to be honest looking back she had no idea why.

"Ginny Weasley?" Gwen was starting to get visibly desperate for some scandal here.

"Well, there was that time… no. I am not now, nor have ever been, dating anyone else here," Hermione said, completely untruthfully. "I know, I'm very boring. A huge disappointment to you."

"No relationships _at all_?"

"I'm like an android," Hermione said solemnly. "Perhaps that's why, as previously mentioned, I can only really connect with sock puppets."

"Conne -"

"_Not that kind of connecting!_" Hermione practically yelled, seeing the smirk on Gwen's face. She put her head in her hands. "I need to go get a drink. And when I get back, we're not going to talk about kissing, sex, relationships, romance, attractive men, or for that matter attractive women. We'll talk about facts and _that is all_."

Hermione got up and marched to the door. To her surprise, as soon as she stepped out, she saw Draco leaning against the wall next to the door with a smirk on his face.

"Interesting interview," Draco said, his voice deadpan. He sounded slightly out of breath.

"That door's warded, you don't have a clue," Hermione said, glaring at him.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Sock puppets again. Your fetishes are bizarre."

"The Cloak? I should have known you'd abuse its powers." He held out a drink for her and she grabbed it. "You know this was just an excuse, and now I'll have to go back in there much sooner. You're not helping. Wait, if you were in there, how'd you get me a drink?" Hermione took a huge swig of the icy drink and coughed.

"It was for me originally, but it seemed you needed it more," Draco reached out and gently tugged on a lock of hair which had fallen in her face. "It's highly alcoholic. Did you know this place has a bar?"

"Draco -"

"I know, it's wrong, you shouldn't be drinking, you're in the middle of being interviewed, it's the middle of the day, you need to be alert, drinking is wrong, some of the other people here are underaged," Draco reeled off helpfully. "Also -"

"Actually, I was going to tell you to take me to the bar, and all will be forgiven," Hermione said imperiously. "I'll pay you back. Do you know, since I started seeing you, I think I'm becoming an alcoholic."

"Lunch is soon," Draco pointed out, "And while I enjoy meals here immensely, since it's the only time we're all together, I suspect you need a bit of alcoholism to weather it. Come on, let's go."

"Thanks," Hermione nearly went to put her arm around him as they walked away, then realised there was a photographer and journalist around and kept away.

After a moment Draco cleared his throat. "So… sock puppets?"

"Shut up, Malfoy."

* * *

**I'm so tired and weird that I can't tell if this is any good. Frankly, I can't tell if it's in English. Hope you like it.**


	25. She Is Love

_I've been beaten down, I've been kicked around, _

_But she takes it all for me._

_And I lost my faith, in my darkest days, _

_But she makes me want to believe._

-Parachute

* * *

"Well, have you found anything interesting?" Hermione looked at Draco hopefully.

Draco had, in fact, found the Galleon he'd been looking for in the Weaselette's room, but obviously he couldn't say this. "I trailed Isabelle for a while, but she doesn't seem to be doing anything bad," he said, resorting to a half-truth. He had followed Isabelle for a couple of minutes, but all she'd done was stare off into space and then she'd gone into her own room and shut the door and locked it.

Hermione took another fortifying sip of her drink. "I know I doubted you this morning," she said frankly, "But now I'm warming to the idea that the journalist is pure evil."

"I didn't say Gwen was evil," Draco objected, "Just that she might be on Isabelle's side. After all, money can buy friends, and Isabelle has quite a bit of money."

"As much as you have?" Hermione said wickedly.

Draco reacted with feigned horror. "Hermione! How dare you! _No one_ has as much money as my family. We could buy a solid gold house."

"Let me guess, with a solid gold garden."

"That sounds quite pretty," Draco said. "It would make weeding and watering very easy, too. The vegetable garden would be a bit tricky, though. And certainly not very healthy."

Hermione laughed. "I should get back. She'll be wondering where I've got to."

"If she has any idea how annoying she is, the first place she'll check will be the bar," Draco remarked. "Merlin, I'm hungry, I can't wait for lunch."

"Actually, I had an idea about dinner," Hermione said, lowering her voice so they wouldn't be overheard. "One of us – you, me or Ginny – could eat early and then search Isabelle's room while everyone else is at dinner. I've noticed she's always there..."

Draco shrugged. "All right, I'll do it. I'll buy dinner here…sure you don't want to join me?" He smiled, and reached up to touch Hermione's cheek with a gentle finger.

She leaned into his touch for a second and closed her eyes, but then jerked away abruptly. "Draco! The photographer's right here!"

"I guess since he works with her, he must need even more alcohol," Draco said, trying not to feel stung by the rejection again. Unable to keep it in, he asked, "Why do you keep trying to keep us secret? People have to find out eventually."

"Well, yes, but your parents," said Hermione, as if it was an explanation.

"…will also have to find out eventually," Draco pointed out. "The earlier the better."

"But they'll disown you!" Hermione stared at him in surprise as Draco started to laugh.

"Oh God," he gasped finally, wiping his eyes. "Is _that_ the only reason you've been doing all this? Refusing to go public?"

"Of course," said Hermione, feeling a little foolish, "Why did you think I was?"

"I thought you might have been ashamed," Draco said gravely.

"Of _you_?" Hermione gaped at him. Pulling herself together, she said sharply, "Of course not, you idiot. I just don't want you to be poor and lose your family and get kicked out of pureblood society and -" Hermione stopped. Draco was shaking with silent laughter again. "Stop it," she snapped, "What's so funny?"

"My mother," Draco said, "Couldn't disown me permanently if her life depended on it. I'm her only son. And purebred society is no loss, ad anyone whose been kicked out can attest. Sure, my father might cut me off from _his_ private fortune, but most of the inheritance – in fact, pretty much all of it – is entailed. That's the Malfoy fortune, and it's passed down through the line, he can't do anything about it. I'll still get a set yearly payment that's – well, let's just say if you had your heart set on buying this hotel it might dry me up for a month or so."

"Why didn't you _tell_ me that?" Hermione couldn't think of anything else to say.

Draco shrugged. "You didn't ask."

"But you said -"

"That was ages ago, and I was lying," Draco said with brutal simplicity. He smirked at her flushed expression. "How was I supposed to know you'd take me seriously? Most people don't know about the exact conditions," he said, by way of apology. "In fact, only the family, I think."

_Well, that explains why Astoria thought he'd be broke. _"So…you really thought I was ashamed of you?"

Draco nodded, sobering again. "Or that you thought we'd break up, and you'd look stupid."

Hermione stared at him for a moment. "Get up," she ordered, and dragged him over to Bert. "Bert, do you have your camera?"

Bert looked up, surprised. "We're not taking photos yet," he said thickly, through a mouthful of bar nuts, but he lifted up his camera bag anyway.

"You'll take this one," Hermione said, and kissed Draco hard on the mouth, winding her body around his. Neither of them were paying enough attention to register the clicking noise when Bert finally managed to get his camera out and snap the picture.

* * *

"Ginny," Ron's voice sounded cold and borderline offensive. "That journalist would like a session with you now, she's changed her mind and says we can all grab lunch whenever we want." When she turned around, he went quiet for a second, his eyes bugging out. "Go get changed," he abruptly ordered her when his eys returned to normal, "You look like a slut."

Ginny flushed angrily. "And you're acting like a jerk. This dress is perfectly okay!" Ginny didn't get to wear dresses or dress robes much, so she was enjoying this chance. In fact, she'd only just taken off the concealing sweater she'd been wearing all morning, and been quietly enjoying the feeling of the cool air on her skin.

"No, it's not," Ron said, "But then, I suppose you're so desperate to seduce Harry that you don't care that it makes you seem pathetic."

Ginny honestly considered slapping him. "Ron, what's the _matter_ with you?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" wondered Ron, giving a nasty laugh. "Maybe I've just realised what _losers _all of you are. The conceited, self-absorbed hero, the slutty little know-it-all, and finally, ladies and gentlemen, my sister. Humiliatingly pining over her twu wuv -"

"Enough," Harry's voice broke in, calm and assured. It made Ginny feel like when both her and Ron were small children, and their mother was scolding them for quarreling. Ironically, that voice had always ruffled her feathers. He glared at Ron. "Go take a chill pill, Ron. Leave Ginny alone." He took Ginny's arm in an assertive, nearly paternal way, and Ginny lost it.

"I'm your _sister_," she snapped furiously at Ron, jerking her arm out of Harry's hold. "You can be a bastard to everyone else, but you owe me a little loyalty. You're not the only one who lost Fred!" she wheeled to face Harry. "And _you_. Do you honestly think I need your help? That I _want _you to try and protect me? I'm not some sad little girl! I don't need you to look after me just because you feel guilty!" Knowing she was being unreasonable, Ginny barrelled away from them, searching for a private place to calm down. She could feel her face turning red and suddenly all she wanted was to be completely alone.

Her eyes set upon a storage closet.

* * *

"So, now you're free, what do you want to do?" Draco said wickedly, smiling at his girlfriend. They were all above board now – apparently to the great happiness of Gwen, who had extended the interview outrageously, leading to lunch being essentially cancelled. Draco had ended up just buying a meal at the bar, where he'd pretty much settled. After all, there was music and alcohol there, as well as a nice warm fire.

Hermione frowned and ignored his insinuation. "I'm going to go talk to Ron. He's been acting strange lately."

"Don't," Draco said flatly. He couldn't come up with a more tactful way to say it.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "_What_? _Why_?"

"I can't tell you that," Draco said, realising he was onto a losing argument here but persevering anyway. If Weasley was alone with Hermione, there was no telling what he could do under Isabelle's orders.

"I'm going," Hermione said coldly, standing up.

Draco stood up to. "I'll come with you."

"What? Don't you trust me?" Hermione glared. "That's ironic, because I don't remember _making out _with another girl while we were dating!" she spotted his smirk and went back over what she'd said. "I mean, another _person_! Like you did! And you think it's okay not to trust me?"

"I trust you," Draco said, "And if you trust me, you won't go see him."

"You mean, if I'm obedient, I won't go see him?" By now Hermione was furious. "You'd like that, right?"

"Yes, I'd like a girlfriend who listens to me," Draco snapped back. "Instead of a know-it-all who doesn't listen to a word I say, and never even _thinks_ I could be right. Did it ever occur to you -"

"Did it ever occur to _you_ that there's no way you're getting lucky tonight?" Hermione shouted, so incensed she didn't even consider that someone could hear.

"Celibacy as punishment, very original," Draco retorted, more quietly.

"Well, you were the one who was all about teaching me to be _female_, and what's more female then making a guy sleep on the couch?" Hermione stared down at her dress and tweaked one of the sleeves. "Dressing me up like a doll… that's what you'd like, right, a doll? Someone you can just _order_ around? Go screw yourself!"

"That sounds _lonely_, maybe I'll just find someone else to spend time with!" Draco shouted back, a nasty look coming into his eye.

"Bastard," Hermione said coldly, and marched away determined to find Ron. Draco was left sitting there, wondering why he always ended up screwing things up. Just a few minutes ago they'd been laughing and talking and kissing, and now she looked like she'd never talk to him again.

* * *

Ginny hid herself in the storage closet with some relief. She didn't know how long she spent there, just leaning her forehead against the one bare wall and thinking about things. Everything was so -

"What are you up to, Weasley?"

Ginny whirled around in shock, then relaxed when she recognized Draco. He was leaning against the door – which he'd closed behind them, she realised with some confusion – a strange expression in his silver eyes. "Just… looking around. Like we agreed," she said lamely.

"You look very nice," he said slowly, his eyes slowly tracing their way up her body. "Hot. Sexy, even."

Ginny shivered and took a step back. She didn't know why she was suddenly so nervous – she'd gotten accustomed to Draco recently, and even conceived a wary affection for him. "Thanks."

Then she understood why she was so nervous. The wolfish smile on his face… the strange look in his eye… it was lust.

"Come here," he said softly. "Give me a kiss."

"No!" Ginny backed away, ending up pressed to the wall. "Just… move out of the way, Malfoy. Don't come near me. I don't want you anywhere near me -"

"You don't sound very sure of that," he chided, stepping forward. "No, don't – _Expelliarmus!_" Ginny had tried to draw her wand, but he was too fast for her.

Ginny's head was slammed into the wall by the force of the spell, making her dizzy for a second. "Don't -"

"Look what you made me do," he said, sounding amused. He stepped forward, pressing himself against her. Ginny fought a wave of nausea that almost made her pass out – she wasn't sure whether it was from what was probably a mild concussion, or from the sick knowledge that he seemed a hundred percent serious. Oh, God, _Hermione..._

He grabbed one of her arms and twisted it behind her back, so she moaned in pain as well as fear. "Draco, you don't want to do this," she said in a final try to stop him, make him realise what he was doing. Was he just trying to steal a kiss? He seemed more… intent. Her first fear – of hurting Hermione – had now changed into a sicker, more extreme terror that he really did intend to rape her. "You _don't._"

"Yes, I do," he hissed, wrenching her arm until she cried out, and then his mouth came over hers, tasting of beer and anger and bitterness. It was painful and rough and not at all like she would have thought a kiss from Draco would be – if she'd ever considered it before. He started to fumble one of his hands under the skirt of her dress, and Ginny nearly threw up.

Instead, she kneed him hard in the groin. Or tried to, anyway, she missed by enough for him to remain upright and angry.

"_Bitch_," he hissed, releasing her arm only to backhand her hard across the face. She cried out in agony as her already-sore head was flung to one side, her mouth and cheek an explosion of pain. Reaching her hand dumbly up to her lip, she pulled it away to see blood.

"You're not Draco," she breathed, suddenly absolutely certain of it. Draco Malfoy might not be an angel, but he also wasn't a monster. The man who stared at Hermione with such aching tenderness was nowhere to be seen right now. To her surprise she wasn't crying – she was too angry. "_Don't come near me_!" She crouched, reaching around behind her hoping to find some kind of weapon, if anything more scared now.

"Of course I am," the impostor sneered, recovering and reaching for her. Now that she had thought it might not be Draco, Ginny could see that the smirk was slightly wrong, that he wasn't moving with his usual grace, and that even the way he phrased his words was just a bit odd.

He reached out for Ginny, trying to grab at her, and Ginny punched him hard in the face. He fell back in surprise, a hand automatically going to his face, and Ginny kicked him in the shin. He fell to the ground, prone for a second, staring up at her in shock.

With stiff, trembling hands, Ginny tried to pull her wand out of his shirt pocket. His bloodstained hand reached up to grab her plait, wrenching it. Ginny whimpered, but managed to locate her wand just as he snarled, "If you wanted to get rid of my shirt, you just had to ask."

He threw her to the ground, letting go of her hair, but Ginny crawled backwards on her hands and knees as fast as possible, too frightened and shocked to think of a suitable spell. Standing up, she wrenched open the door, and ran.

Ginny ran in primal, uncontrollable fear, until she turned a corner and ran straight into Hermione, who frowned and said "Ginny? What -"Ginny, carried away by anger and horror, just moved around her and kept running. When she reached Harry's room, she didn't even knock, just slammed in.

Harry looked up from a book on Quidditch, blinking in surprise. His expression changed quickly from confusion to shock. "Ginny? What happened to your face?"

Then Ginny, much to her dismay, burst into tears.

* * *

"Still waiting for Draco to contact you?" Blaise said, walking into the common room to see Astoria staring at her coin.

She nodded without taking her eyes off it. "It goes hot, and the numbers change. I need to know what's happening."

"Worried that Isabelle's plan will fail?"

"No," Astoria said honestly, "Not anymore. I'm worried that it'll succeed. Whatever this is…" she broke off. "I saw her before she left, you know. I've never seen her look so…"

"I know," Blaise sat down beside her after casually pushing a second-year off the seat. "But whatever it is, it might be good for us, right?"

Astoria closed her eyes for a second. "Good for _us_? I don't…" Astoria regrouped. "I'm more concerned about what it equals for them." She met his eyes squarely. "I know I'm selfish."

"Oh, yes," Blaise agreed eagerly. "Hugely selfish."

"I'm amoral -"

"No principles at all -" he chimed in.

"Promiscuous -"

"Biggest slut at Hogwarts -" Blaise nodded cheerfully.

"And I'm not exactly – _will you stop helping me?_" Astoria spat out. "My point is – I'm not a good person. But that doesn't mean I'm a complete bitch." She stared at Blaise, her eyes wide and dark. Despite himself, Blaise reached out to put a hand on her arm and comfort her. "I don't want Isabelle to get hurt, but I've come to realise I don't want any of them to get hurt, either."

"Draco," Blaise guessed cynically.

"Not just him! It's… it's one thing to mess with their minds. But whatever Isabelle has planned, it's worse than that. I broke in… I found... she'd …_practised_… in her room… on rats…" she saw Blaise's confusion, and blurted it out. "I think she's going to kill someone."

* * *

"Shh," Harry continued to rub Ginny's back helplessly. After they'd fought earlier, he should be scared she would yell at him again for treating her like a child, but the woebegone expression in her eyes and the purpling bruise on her cheek had completely wrecked him. "Shh, Gin, it'll be okay." He hugged her closer. "I'm here… what happened? Who did this to you?" He did his best to keep his anger in check.

"Just… an accident," Ginny said indistinctly, her face buried in his jumper. She couldn't tell him what had happened – he'd want to know who hit her, and she'd never be able to persuade him it wasn't the real Draco when she didn't have any proof.

A tiny, suspicious part of her whispered that she _didn't_ know it hadn't been Draco. She squashed it, reminding herself that Draco had been wearing different clothes at breakfast. In fact, now she came to think of it, the clothes fake-Draco had been wearing had seemed baggy and shapeless. Not only oversized, but badly made. In a word, _cheap. _Draco would never wear cheap clothes, according to what Hermione said. It was nearly funny - he was cleared of being an attempted rapist because he was too much of a snob.

"What? I didn't hear you, Gin," Harry said, still gently, "Who did this?"

"No one. Accident," Ginny lifted her head up to speak. Her brown eyes were rimmed with red, and the bruise was starting to look even worse. Her lip was split and looked painful. Harry wished she'd let him fetch an icepack. Message delivered, she let her head fall again. Her hair, fallen out of its messy plait, covered her face.

"Bullshit," Harry said flatly. "Someone hit you." A horrible thought occurred to him. "It wasn't _Ron_, was it?"

"_What?_" Ginny's head whipped up, a look of shock on her face. "Ron wouldn't… how could you? _No!_ Why would you think…?"

Harry winced. "It was just a dumb thought. After you yelled at him, he went looking for you – to apologise or to continue the argument, I don't know which. I guess I thought he might have found you, and gotten angry… like I said, dumb, Ron would never hurt you. Ginny, who _was_ it?

Ginny just shook her head and didn't respond.

She drifted away a bit, thinking. The scariest thing was that it could be anyone. Anyone could have drank Polyjuice Potion, followed her, and tried to hurt her. Not tried to hurt her, she suddenly realised, tried to hurt _them_ – all three of the people who knew what Isabelle was up to and intended to stop her. The plan must have been for Ginny to go to Hermione about what had happened…

Except, no. What if she'd gotten out of there and gone to the aurors? She was still half-considering it. Except some stubborn part of her thought that she could take care of this by herself. She had taken care of it by herself.

If she'd accused Draco, he might have gone to Azkaban… at the very least, he would have been removed from the hotel and her immediate area. It seemed… excessive, though, as a way to get a potential enemy out of the picture.

Ginny could imagine Isabelle planning to make her think Draco had come onto her –Hermione would never talk to him again. She might even hate Ginny, if she thought Ginny had gone along with it.

But however evil Isabelle was, Ginny couldn't imagine her hiring a rapist. She just couldn't.

"Tell me something happy," she said eventually. "No!" she added quickly at his frown, "No talking about who-what-when-where-and-how. Just tell me…"

"What?"

"Something happy. Something about the future, something good that's going to happen."

There was a long pause. "I never thought about a happy future," he admitted. "I mean, not for ages. I always thought I was going to die."

He said it so baldly, Ginny was shocked. "_What_?"

"Voldemort was after me!" Harry said in a defensive sort of way, "I thought he'd kill me. I mean, subconsciously, that's what I thought. I thought I'd die fighting him. I never imagined I'd live past twenty… until I met you, anyway."

"Me?" Ginny felt flattered, now.

Harry just looked at her. He knew he should return to important subjects, like who had hit her, but the unguarded, hopeful look in her eyes left him with no choice. "Yeah, you. I imagined us married."

"_Married?_"

"In the _future!_" Harry said defensively, "It was a… a dream, really. We were married, with kids."

"Kids?"

"Four boys," Harry replied, picturing them in his mind. "I thought James, Albus, Severus and maybe Remus." In his mind, they all looked nearly exactly like him, minus a scar. Except maybe with Ginny's brown eyes, or perhaps with her open, uncomplicated smile.

Ginny opened her mouth, and then closed it again. She wanted to say that she would never have allowed a son of hers to be called Albus or Severus. She wanted to say she would have liked some daughters, maybe even more daughters than sons. She wanted to say that all of the names being those of dead people was seriously bad juju. She even wanted to say that to get four boys she'd probably have to have about seven children, and at most she was willing to have three.

The truth was she would have agreed, though: if he'd asked her to marry him, she would have said yes straight away, thinking of him as a hero, and agreed to whatever he wanted. _Forever_. Names, amount of kids, the house they'd lived in, the jobs she would have had. And suddenly, that seemed sadder than anything – that she would put up with all that. Not that he would have decided anything bad - but he would have decided everything.

Ginny had, for the last two years, assumed Harry was only interested her because she was a Weasley. She'd assumed she was flawed, while he was perfect. However, since he'd offensively dumped her and moved on within a minute, she was opening up to the idea he wasn't ideal. He was a bit of a control freak, he freaked out about everything, he didn't listen to people who were smarter than him, and he whined far too much. In fact, despite his hero status, he was as imperfect as she was.

Unfortunately, his imperfections only made her love him more.

* * *

Hermione stood outside Ron's door, knocking for what seemed like the twentieth time. She'd been coming back every five minutes or so to try again. So far he hadn't responded, even though she knew he was in there. "Ron? Please, open up, it's me -"

To her shock, he yanked open the door. "What do you want?"

"Can I come in?"

"I suppose," he said ungraciously. He marched back into his room, followed by Hermione. She closed the door gently behind them and sat down tentatively on his bed.

"I know you've been going through a tough time lately," she said, unconsciously quoting her earlier interview with the reporter. "I just thought you could use someone to talk to."

"And you thought you'd be the perfect person?" Ron's voice held an edge of sarcasm far more biting than his usual kind. He stood a little away, staring at the wall.

Hermione drew back a little, stung. "Y-yes. That is, I don't know. You're my best friend, Ron."

"Best friend?" Ron said slowly. "Really. I thought that was Harry."

"Harry's like a brother to me," Hermione said helplessly.

"But I'm not."

"You're just as important!" Hermione raked a hand through her hair, already frustrated.

Ron turned slowly. His expression was peculiarly unreadable – Ron was usually like an open book, every feeling close to the surface. "Just as important. But not like a brother. Does that mean – something more than a friend?"

Hermione edged away a little, unnerved. "A- a _best_ friend, Ron." She bit her lip to stop herself adding the too-pointed comment 'that's all'.

"Be honest, Hermione," Ron said, sounding almost weary. "Don't play games here. What is it you want?"

"I want my best friend back!"

"But not… more?" Ron's expression darkened slightly. "Because you know what I think this is? Tit for tat. I find a hot girl to sleep with, so you decide to get even by finding a guy to fuck. Only there's no one interested so you – scraping the bottom of the barrel – find a guy who only wants you because he thinks it's funny to sleep with the enemy." Ron let out a harsh bark of laughter. "Only the joke's on you, because I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole anymore. But that's what this is – you're here to find out if I'm still interested. Well, I'm not."

"Ron," Hermione heard her voice tremble a little, "I don't like the way you're acting. Why are you _doing_ this? Do you want us all to hate you, is that what this is? Well, screw that. I'm not listening to you. I'm not playing your little game." She got up to leave.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_" Ron said, so quickly that Hermione had no time to react. She hadn't even noticed he was reaching for his wand. He stepped forwards, catching her, and traced his wand down her left cheek. "See, now we can play whatever games that I want. Little or not."

He dragged the wand down her cheek again, harder, only this time it sliced like a knife. Hermione whimpered, all her terrifying memories of being tortured by Bellatrix flooding her head. For a second, she was in Malfoy Manor again, hearing that crazy laugh, feeling that knife pressing into her… then she was back in Ron's hotel room.

Ron stepped away, still with that terrifying smile. "_Accio Potion_," he said, then cursed when the only response was a rattling noise. "Right, I locked it in." He turned and walked across the room, casually letting go of Hermione so that her rigid body hit the ground with a thump.

Suddenly, the door swung open. Hermione felt a moment's grim amusement that Ron hadn't even remembered to lock it. "Ron?" Ginny said, walking in. "Listen, I came to -" she stopped abruptly. "'Mione? What's -"

"A spell went wrong," Ron said smoothly – too smoothly, Hermione thought. "I was just looking for a potion for cuts, but I couldn't find one." Silently, he took the spell off her. "Isn't that right, Hermione?"

Hermione opened her mouth to say exactly what had happened and then thought better of it. "Just an accident," she said shortly. "A misunderstanding. What's the matter, Ginny?" She winced as every word pulled at the shallow cut on her face. It didn't seem to be deep, but like a papercut it still hurt.

"I just came to get Ron for dinner," Ginny lied. She'd actually been planning to ask Ron if, when he was looking for her, he'd seen anything strange. She'd already gotten Bert – the photographer – to heal her face, so there was no proof anything had happened. No one had gotten a good look at her but Harry. She didn't know why she wanted to keep it quiet, except that it seemed so shocking to her. She didn't want to worry any of the others. "It's good to find you here too." She hesitated for a second, and then said casually, "Draco already ate before the rest of us." To her surprise, she hadn't withdrawn when she'd seen him. It was like, despite how they were physically identical, she could see how the man who'd tried to rape her was not Draco - she could notice the tiny differences that spoke of a different person as only a girl who'd grown up with identical twins could.

Later, Ginny would wonder why she hadn't been able to identify the signs with Ron. Perhaps he was too much like normal, or perhaps she was too close to it to see clearly.

'Draco already ate'. That was code, Hermione realised, for 'Draco is searching Isabelle's room while we're all occupied'. She must have spoken to him. Hermione wondered if Draco had mentioned the fight they'd had. "Dinner sounds brilliant," she said, and followed Ginny out of the room. "But first I have to find Bert, Draco told me he's had some Healer training." Hermione touched her hand to the shallow cut on her face, and winced.

* * *

"Oops!" Isabelle said artfully, spilling her drink quite deliberately on Ginny's dress. "I'm so sorry. Come in here, I'll help clean you up." She grabbed Ginny's arm and managed to draw her across the room to the female toilets before Ginny had time to react.

"What do you want?" Ginny said coldly, pulling away from the other girl. She kept a wary eye on Isabelle's wand hand.

"I owe you an apology," Isabelle said meaningfully, starting to dab at the stain on Ginny's dress with a hand-towel.

"Oh?"

"Yes, a big apology," Isabelle continued. "Sometimes I can be… clumsy… and things don't go the way I intended. I lost control of my drink, just then, and I wanted you to know it wasn't intentional."

"Not intentional?" Ginny echoed, starting to understand exactly what she meant.

"You know, I can make nasty comments to you quite frequently," Isabelle continued delicately. "And that's fine. But I would never purposely spill a drink on you. That's a step…too far."

"So you were intending to do one thing, but you lost control of…your drink… and something else happened?" Ginny said slowly.

"Something worse," Isabelle said, adopting a sad expression. "And I just want you to understand that I have lines."

"As in, you refuse to wreck dresses?"

"Yes," Isabelle frowned, put out. "It's just my drink that doesn't seem to understand that."

"That's careless of you," Ginny said shortly, staring down at Isabelle's face.

"Well," Isabelle said angelically, "I'll make sure it never happens again." In a move nearly too fast for Ginny to follow, Isabelle threw the glass she'd been holding at the opposite wall. It exploded noisily, raining the area around it with sparkling bits of glass. Ginny shrank back, wordlessly shocked.

"I see," she said when she could finally speak. Ginny felt a begrudging respect for the other girl, and hoped she really did intend to treat the Polyjuice-user in exactly the same fashion.

"Oops," said Isabelle, as an afterthought. "Now I don't have anything to drink out of. I'm so impulsive sometimes." Her smile glittered like ice, or like the broken glass, and Ginny couldn't help thinking she'd never seen anyone less impulsive-looking in her life. Isabelle stepped back and surveyed her handiwork. "Wait, why are we messing around with paper towels? We're _witches_!"

* * *

Hermione felt half-dead with exhaustion. She'd spent the entire night reading book after book in the main room, trying to distract herself from her thoughts. Right now, she was returning to her room to finally collapse into bed.

"_Lumos_," she muttered, and the room lit up. She nearly yelped from shock when she saw Draco sitting calmly on the bed.

"Why can't our relationship ever be simple?" Draco said, apropos of nothing.

"I…I don't know," Hermione said weakly. Then she rallied. "Ron's – not Ron. He's under the Imperius. And you knew. You chose _her _over Ron."

Draco nodded. "Just like you would choose Ron over her."

This seemed entirely unanswerable to Hermione, it was so ridiculous. Of _course_ she'd protect Ron, but Ron was a good guy. Isabelle didn't deserve to have anyone helping her. Nevertheless... "You have until the end of this weekend to get Ron out from under the spell, before I turn this over to the authorities, and tell Harry and Ginny," Hermione said. It was the best she could offer him.

Draco nodded again. "Thank you," he said. "Did he -"

"No, I'm fine," Hermione went and sat down next to him. "Isabelle's room?"

"Clean," Draco said flatly. He looked as tired as Hermione felt. "See what I mean? This isn't simple. I wish it was simple."

"Let's make it simple," Hermione said, and leaned in to kiss him.

He drew back and searched her face. "About before -"

"You had your reasons," she said, climbing into bed. He followed her. "And I trust you. I know I don't always act like it – but I do trust you. And I love you. And, please, could you just hug me? I'm tired and sad and stressed and – just make the world simple, please?"

He held her close, and they fell asleep in each others' arms.

* * *

**I hope you like it. Thanks to everyone for the reviews for the last chapter.**


	26. All The Right Moves

_It don't matter what you see_

_I know I could never be_

_Someone that'll look like you._

_It don't matter what you say_

_I know I could never fake_

_Someone that could sound like you._

- Onerepublic

* * *

Draco woke up to find Hermione staring at him, a loving smile on her face. "Hey."

"…Hey?" Draco said questioningly, pulling himself up and smiling. The last he remembered, Hermione had been less than pleased with him. Which was fair enough, really. He was leaving one of her best friends (_the man she loved_) under the mental and physical control of a girl who showed definite signs of being a sociopath. Hermione probably assumed he had a plan.

He didn't.

He just couldn't stand the thought of Isabelle going to Azkaban. Maybe because he'd already seen his father go there multiple times, seen the etchings of terror on his face. Isabelle seemed to young and little to make it through Azkaban. Also, she was his _friend_. Only someone as essentially friendless as Draco had been for so many years could understand the value of an equal, someone you could trust to be honest and sometimes even trust to have your back.

He could remember dozens of tiny incidents – people tripped over after insulting him, Isabelle tirelessly helping Astoria study for an important test, a meal being brought to him in sixth year when he'd once again forgotten to eat. The same kind of things he would do for her, little things that didn't involve any personal risk at all but still somehow meant something.

And then last year, Draco had hidden two mischievous first-years in his room after a prank they'd intended for McGonagall had hit Amycus Carrow instead, sending him and his sister on a furious chase after them. It would have resulted in their agonising torture and Draco thought that, as Head Boy, it was his duty to protect them. Isabelle had come when she'd heard what was happening – knowing perfectly well he occasionally hid people in his room – and _ordered_ him to tell the Carrows where they were. "It's not worth the risk," she'd said angrily, "If you don't tell them, _I'll_ tell them you've caught them and are holding them here."

Then they'd heard the voice of Alecto Carrow right outside the room, and Isabelle had barrelled out to cut them off. Draco expected her to tell them, but instead, when questioned on the horrible thing that had befallen Amycus, she simply said, "You know, my father always said you two have an unhealthy relationship. You practically breathe incest. You should really get a boyfriend. I hear the Giant Squid is single -"

She'd gotten detention for two weeks, and Draco's good opinion. Draco knew if he mentioned this to Hermione, Hermione would tell him that it had been a ploy to get Draco on her side – which was probably true. But so many of the people who he'd believed in had turned out to be bastards, and he wanted to cling to those few Slytherins he still gave a damn about. Because, after all, if no Slytherins could be trusted, what did that mean for him?

"It's a nice morning," Draco said, yawning. "I half-expected you to wake me up at three so no one would see my walk of shame."

"Walk of shame?" Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Fine, walk of triumph," Draco smiled at her. "You seem awfully cheerful this morning."

"You came back," Hermione said simply. Draco just looked confused. "It's just, whenever I fought with Ron it would be weeks before he'd speak to me again. But you were here straight away."

"Right," said Draco, feeling cold creep into him again. He hated being compared to Weasley, even positively, because it meant Hermione was still thinking of him in that way. As a potential boyfriend. "So, photos today."

"Yes," Hermione's smile dimmed a bit. "I'm not sure… when should I put on that pink dress? I mean, I can't really see myself wearing it to breakfast."

"Especially not with the vast increase in spills recently," Draco said wickedly. "By the way, how was dinner last night?"

"Strange," Hermione said. "Ron kept twitching. That's when I figured out… But the others noticed too. He looked a bit crazy, I could see Gwen's face lighting up at the thought of what she can write about him."

"Or it could have been lighting up for other reasons," Draco pointed out. He still couldn't quite shake his suspicions of Gwen. He also didn't mention that what Hermione had said worried him. The twitches were very indicative. If the Weasel really was starting to regain control, Isabelle would have to act soon. "I'd better go back to my room to get dressed." With another yawn, he pulled himself out of bed and yanked on the pair of jeans he'd been wearing last night. He leaned over the bed to give Hermione a kiss. "Look forward to seeing you in that dress."

As soon as he was out of the room, Draco sped up. He needed to get to his room and contact the others, he wanted them here yesterday. Now he could hide them under the Cloak there was no point waiting around, was there? It wasn't like they could get kicked out. Besides, he was starting to get a seriously bad feeling about all of this.

Turning the corner, he nearly ran straight into Ginny. "Weaselette," he said easily, preparing to make some excuse for his haste. Then he stilled as she pointed her wand directly at him. "What?"

"How did we first meet?" Ginny challenged him. The way he'd said her name was exactly the same as yesterday, in the closet. The same inflection and everything.

"In Diagon Alley, at Lockhart's book signing," Draco said, frowning. His quick mind instantly leapt to the right conclusion. "Is someone going around pretending to be me?"

Ginny relaxed, letting her wand drop. "Yes," she said baldly. "He tried to, er, attack me yesterday."

Draco noticed her flinch at the word. "Attack? Attack how?"

"Not important," Ginny said shortly, "You're the first person I've told, anyway. I figure whoever it was would never fool Hermione, and Isabelle has no reason to attack Ron or Harry."

"Fair enough," Draco said, hiding his concern at the thought of someone pretending to be him. Especially around Hermione. He already had trouble forgiving himself for not warning her about Weasley – what if the bastard had hurt her? "We'll have to be careful, then. Why are you hanging around here?"

Ginny's shoulders drooped. "Waiting to talk to Harry."

"A bit early, isn't it?" Draco closed his eyes for a second, thinking. What was the best use to make of Ginny Weasley? In less than a second, it became obvious. If Weasley was fighting the control of the Imperius Curse, who better to break him out of it than his dear sister? "Okay, stop waiting around for him. I need you to go talk to your brother. And whatever happens there, I need you to _come to me first._ Do you understand?"

"You're not my boss," Ginny said evenly.

He met her eyes squarely, not showing any signs of backing down. "I am your best shot, though, aren't I? Please, just do it. And don't ask me why."

For some reason, Ginny found herself nodding. She trusted him, despite herself. He was too charismatic – when he tried to get someone to like him, he seemed to do it effortlessly. Much like Harry who could surround himself with a crowd of friends and admirers easily. "Alright. I'll expect an explanation sometime, though."

"You'll get it," said Draco, looking at her with respect. "Stick with your brother, okay? Don't leave his side." He figured if Ron was fighting it, there was no way Isabelle could make him attack someone who he'd been taught to love and protect since childhood. She would know that too, and wouldn't even try. Hopefully. So much of this plan was based on hope.

* * *

Breakfast that day was rather empty. "Where's Ron?" Hermione said instantly, when she sat down. She was very late and had assumed she'd be the last one there.

"In his room, sulking," Harry said, almost cheerfully. At Hermione's look, he shrugged. "I've given up. Eventually he'll snap out of whatever this is, but until then I'm just going to avoid him." He shot Hermione a defiant look, expecting her to tell him that he had to try and mend things with Ron.

"Good plan," Hermione said, and took a bite of her toast. "Also, where's Ginny and Draco?"

"You'd have a much better idea of that then me," Harry shrugged, "I'm just enjoying the peace and quiet with no one yelling." He didn't add that he was especially enjoying it because he knew it wouldn't last long. His feelings yesterday when he saw Ginny hurt had convinced him – he loved Ginny. He didn't love Isabelle. He'd asked Isabelle to meet him in private at the bar area before lunch today, when they were both free from photo sessions, and he was going to break up with her. Maybe he was being a bastard by not waiting, but he couldn't stand it any more.

"I love peace," said Isabelle beatifically, startling a laugh out of Hermione.

"Sorry, just thought of a joke," said Hermione lamely.

"I hope you're all looking forward to the photos later," Gwen said almost sternly, "And also, I still have to have some more sessions with all of you. In between the photos, of course. I'd hate to disrupt those, Bert is thrilled about them."

"Thrilled?" Hermione said, turning her head to look at the laconic Bert.

"Ecstatic," he said, shoving another pancake into his mouth with a great deal more interest then he was giving the conversation. "Can you pass me the cream?"

* * *

"We're here," Astoria said unnecessarily, raising the hood of her cloak so he could see her face. "So sweet of you to call when you said you would."

Blaise, beside her, just rolled his eyes. "The doorman says you gave him orders to let in a beautiful dark-haired girl, _and _a thuggish idiotic dark-skinned loser," he said threateningly to Draco.

"He must have been misquoting," Draco said innocently. "I made very sure to say _moronic_ instead of idiotic."

"Well, I was flattered, anyway," Astoria said. "Ignore Blaise, he's just grumpy because the thestral kicked him. Several times. It was just playing."

"Glad we got the pleasantries out of the way," Draco said, glancing around. The room they were in was empty – it was apparently used for conferences, but there wasn't one on at the moment. Obviously, since the hotel had been cleared out for them. His expression turned serious. "Have you got a plan, Astoria?"

"Find Isabelle, follow her around, and stop her before she does something stupid," Astoria dropped all pretence, looking honestly worried. "Preferably at the last minute, so she doesn't have time to regroup. I'm pretty sure now is the only time she can do whatever she's planned. She was so set on this weekend."

"I think it's because whatever happens will be far more of a media-frenzy than it would at Hogwarts, where they try and keep reporters away." Draco said, "Or because there are really no adults here besides the barman, the doorman, the reporter and the photographer. The photographer and the barman are idiots, the doorman is a squib, and the reporter is looking pretty promising on the whole 'evil' thing. There are a lot of house-elves but they'll never get involved, it's outside their orders. Whatever happens here… there's so few people, Isabelle could probably make us all forget what actually happened."

"It's us versus Isabelle, still, that's three to one," Astoria pointed out. "It doesn't matter if we haven't got any adults to take care of us."

"Weasley's also on her side," Draco felt compelled to admit. "She imperius-ed him." To his surprise, they accepted that without a blink.

"Okay, so you follow him, we'll follow Isabelle," Blaise said. "I assume you have the Cloak for us?"

"Here," Draco passed it over. "But I don't like that plan. I should follow Isabelle, she won't hurt me."

"I don't think she'd hurt any of us," Astoria said strongly. Then she thought about it for a second. "Oh, except Blaise. She'd have no problem shish-kebabing him. Right, so I'll follow Isabelle alone, and you two follow Ron."

Blaise looked insulted. "Isabelle cares about me! We're friends too, you know, and we've slept together. She probably -"

"And you verse Isabelle alone?" Draco countered, ignoring Blaise to focus on Astoria. "She taught you everything you know about duelling, and she's much better than you. You'd be tied up and gagged before you could say hello. Plus, you and Blaise have to stick together in order to both stay under the Invisibility Cloak."

"Fine," Astoria sighed. "We'll follow her love-slave and you follow her. I just think it's highly unfair," she said with a strong sense of ill-usage, "You're sticking me with this moron again!"

* * *

"And then Fred tied Percy up, remember," Ginny continued her story, a faintly sorrowful smile on her face. "He declared that the Weasley household was a democracy and they weren't ever going to be babysat by a despot again. And Percy was sitting there, _spluttering_ – you know how he does – about how he didn't agree with any of this and Fred and George were little monsters and Mum would be home soon and he wasn't ever going to babysit us again anyway. So Fred -" Ginny laughed, "- Fred balls up one of his socks and sticks it in Percy's mouth, and decides to take a vote on whether tyrants should be smeared with garden-gnome droppings. Remember?"

"I remember," Ron said remotely, but his face twitched a little. "Leave me alone, Ginny. Get out."

"Of course, when Mum got home, she demanded to know where Percy was, and George told her he'd decided to go to Vienna and legally marry his pocket-protector," Ginny laughed again. She'd been ignoring Ron's frequent insults and commands and just reeling off family memories for what felt like an hour. However, she'd continue to do it all day if it would stop Ron from acting so weird. "He said that then Fred and him could offer to babysit Percy's kids and -" Ginny's face suddenly crumpled, remembering that Fred would never babysit any of their children. He'd never have any of his own either. She closed her eyes to stop from crying.

To her surprise, she felt Ron's hand land comfortingly on her shoulder, "And then Fred said, 'they'll probably tie us up'. And Mum demanded to know what they were talking about, and they got grounded for _ages_. Of course, they snuck out." Ron smiled at her, his face working oddly, and Ginny leaned into him. Suddenly he jerked away, like she was a poisonous snake. "_Get out_."

Ginny was more determined to stay now she'd seen that moment of him acting like normal. She was starting to get a vague idea of why Draco had sent her – and what was wrong with Ron – and had to hide the burning rage that was starting deep inside her. "Should I tell you what happened when they snuck out?" she said softly, watching as Ron paced the room. He ignored her. "Well, here's how it started…"

* * *

"You seem happy, considering," Gwen said archly as Hermione posed for another photo. She felt ridiculous, all pink silk and awkward positioning, but Bert seemed very approving. He nodded frequently and had even smiled once. Despite his general lack of intelligence, he seemed to be very good at his job, clicking away happily. She'd even caught some male appreciation as he gave her a once-over. Remembering what Draco had told her ages ago, about it being flattery, she tried not to find it awkward (and failed utterly).

"Just the joy of seeing you," Hermione said with heavy sarcasm, smiling at the camera insincerely. "Shouldn't you be off interviewing someone?"

"I still can't find Miss Weasley," Gwen said, "Of course, that's hardly surprising. Considering."

"Please stop saying considering, and just tell me what you're trying to hint at," Hermione turned her attention away from the camera to look at Gwen. The woman's last statement had been loaded with meaning.

Gwen examined her fingernails. "I mean, considering Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley were seen getting hot and heavy yesterday."

Hermione froze. "_That's a lie_." Inside, a tiny, persistent voice mentioned that Draco had said he was going to find someone else to keep him company. And Ginny had been acting weirdly since yesterday… maybe she was feeling guilty? And why were they both missing?

It was only a second of doubt, then reason reasserted itself. Gwen was a liar.

Gwen shrugged, "I have it on _very _reliable authority. They were quite loud, apparently."

There was something a little too smug in the woman's expression. Like she knew it was the truth. Staring into her lizard-like eyes, Hermione almost believed her. Almost. But she wasn't stupid. She knew it must be Isabelle playing with them again – and if she was, Hermione needed to warn Ginny and Draco. "I'll go find Ginny for you," Hermione said shortly, and walked away.

She just hoped she didn't find Draco with her.

* * *

"Hey," Isabelle smiled sweetly at her boyfriend and target. "It's so nice of you to arrange this. It's like our first real date." She sat down next to him, staring at him adoringly.

"Well, yes," Harry said uneasily, suppressing the impulse to add that it was also their last. "Listen, Isabelle, we need to talk."

If Harry had hoped that Isabelle might get the message immediately, he was disappointed. "I know we do," she said complacently, "Let's order first, though."

"Oh, right," Harry said. He'd actually politely asked the barman if he could give them a while. If Isabelle was going to burst into tears, she wouldn't want witnesses. "Uh… I think it's the barman's lunch break. Plus, you're underage. We should probably just get to the talking part."

"Okay," Isabelle said. "By the way, how are your interviews going?"

"Fine, good," Harry rubbed his sweaty hands on his pants and wished fervently that he'd never met Isabelle. "But, you know, I meant talking about important things."

Isabelle nodded straight away. "I know what you want to talk about. I've been noticing it too over the last few days."

"You…you have?" Harry felt incredibly relieved.

"Yes," Isabelle said thoughtfully. "I think everyone has."

"They have?"

"Ginny's not over you," Isabelle said directly.

"But what does that have to do with – oh, you think that's what we're talking about?" Harry was plunged straight back into dread. "That's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

"I guess it is insensitive to talk about it," Isabelle said sympathetically. Of course, she knew exactly what was going on, but had no intention of making it easy for him. "It's hard, knowing that she's not okay with us. But we were friends once and in time we'll be friends again."

"No! Isabelle, I want to talk about _us_," Harry said desperately. "Listen, the thing is… the thing is… you're great."

"You're great too, Harry," Isabelle said, raising her shining eyes to his.

"No, that's not what I meant," Harry felt the beginnings of a headache. "You're great, but I… I don't love you."

"That takes time, we've only been dating a couple of weeks," Isabelle reached out and gave his hand a consoling pat. "Give it a while. It's okay, I don't expect us to move that fast. It's great of you to be honest, though -"

"_I love Ginny_," Harry said quickly.

Isabelle stayed still for a second, and then, as if choreographed, two great big tears plopped out of her eyes. She shrank in to herself a little, looking even younger and more defenceless. "Oh," she said quietly. "I guess I should have known."

"I'm sorry, I'll go," said Harry wildly, "I'm sorry for _everything_, I am. I really do – _did _like you, but I love Ginny. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to -"

"Don't go," Isabelle said thickly, rejoicing at his obvious discomfort. "Just stay here a while, okay?"

Tentatively, he put his arms around her. With her face hidden by his jacket, Isabelle allowed herself a small, smug smile.

* * *

Much to her surprise, Hermione encountered Draco within a few minutes. He was rushing the other way, wrapping the cloak around him as he went, so she caught at his arm to stop him. "Hermione, let go, I have somewhere to be," he said irritably.

"Draco, you self-centred -" Hermione started, and then realised what he meant. "Something's about to go down, isn't it?" As soon as she said it, she thought inconsequentially that she should never use the phrase 'go down' again, or at least not in this context. It was too, too _street_ for her.

"I think so. Something big, a fight probably." said Draco levelly. "I have to get to Isabelle and Potter," he hesitated, and then said, "I just had to get the Invisibility Cloak first, in order to get to the room they're in. Stupid Potter cleared the area so I'll need the Invisibility Cloak in order to stay close enough. I left it – somewhere else." Then he changed his mind, and decided to tell her the truth. "With Zabini and Astoria, actually."

Hermione paled a bit. "_They're _here?"

"I let them in, they're here to help," Draco said shortly. When he saw Hermione's expression, he added softly, "Trust me. I wouldn't put you in danger. I would never put you in danger."

"I know," Hermione replied. "I know you wouldn't put me in danger. I _don't_ know about Harry, or Ron, or even Ginny though -" she spotted a flicker in his expression. "_Where's Ginny_?"

"Weasley's room," Draco said brusquely, "I don't think she's in danger, though. Not from him. But you should probably go, anyway," he added, thinking to himself that she would be safe under the protection of Ginny, Blaise and Astoria all together. Weasley would be no match for all of them.

Hermione nodded swiftly. "All right. I will. You and Harry can definitely deal with Isabelle together."

"True," Draco said, and started to walk away quickly. To his surprise, Hermione grabbed his arm again.

"But if you can't," she said quietly, but with steel in her voice, "_Protect Harry_. Do whatever you have to. If Harry gets hurt, I'll never forgive you. Just like if Ron gets hurt."

"Right," Draco said woodenly. There it was again - another sign that he would never be completely trusted, no matter what she said, because he was a Slytherin. He might be better-looking than the Weasel, smarter, better-dressed, richer, and he might love Hermione more; but he would never be able to be the love of her life. He could never be as moral, as unthinkingly good, as the people she valued most were. No matter what he did, he was a Malfoy - no one could ever see him as the good guy.

And she was right, too, that's what hurt the most. He was dark and twisty, without the sunlit uncomplicatedness that characterised the Weasleys. If it came right down to it, he wasn't even sure if he trusted himself to make the right choices, so he just kept going and hoped he was doing the right thing. And if that didn't work... well, he'd lose Hermione.

"By the way," she said as he started to walk away, "Have you ever kissed Ginny?"

"_What_?"

"I just, someone said," Hermione stuttered, suddenly feeling ridiculous. "Never mind."

"Ask the Weaselette for more information," Draco advised with a snicker. "But I can promise you _I_ never kissed her."

* * *

Draco entered the bar area to find Isabelle and Potter embracing. He to ignore the temptation to yell that they should get a room, and moved silently close enough to hear.

"My father was a Death Eater, you know," he heard Isabelle say quietly.

Harry just looked confused and very out of his depth. Isabelle was clinging to him and he didn't know what to do. Draco could have laughed out loud at his expression. "I know," Harry said gently, deciding to go along with it.

"He wasn't a good man," Isabelle said, raising her head slightly to look at Harry. Draco knew her well enough to see the utter ruthlessness in her eyes. _Don't do it, Isabelle_, he said to himself.

"Oh?"

"No," Isabelle said dreamily, "He hurt people. A lot of people. But it's funny, whatever he did to people – whatever he did to _me_ – I loved him anyway. Because he was the only person who ever gave a damn about me."

"I'm sure that's not true," Harry said awkwardly.

"Oh, it is," Isabelle sounded lost. "I always knew that whatever he did, it was for my own good. It was because he loved me so much. And he _was_ the only one who did – my mother hated me, because he loved me so very much. Too much. She's a very jealous person. I hate her. But I loved my father. I did."

"But not any more?" Draco winced at Potter's artless question. Admittedly, it was only inflammatory if you had the extra knowledge he did, but still…

"No," Isabelle said, her mind still far away from the present. She'd separated from Harry a little, but retained a hold on his hand. "He left me. Not on purpose, someone made him leave me, but still… how can you love someone who leaves you?" she smiled up at Harry, who was looking even more worried and started surreptitiously trying to yank his hand away. "That's why you're in luck."

"I am?" Harry said weakly.

"Well," Isabelle said, "I can't be angry at you for leaving me if I don't love you, can I? And if you're leaving, _choosing_ to leave, well, I can't hate you for that. So… I forgive you for using me to make yourself feel better and breaking up with me. I forgive you for leaving. Goodbye."

She released Harry completely, giving him a kiss on the cheek and a smile. Harry got up, hugely relieved, and started to walk away. He didn't see Isabelle rising gratefully from her chair, and pulling out a wand. She raised it and pointed it at him, still with that eerie smile on her face. "I don't forgive you," she said too quietly for the departing Harry to hear, "For killing the only person who ever really loved me."

Draco acted.

* * *

Ginny was interrupted half-way through her tale of Bill and the fighting frog by the sound of a knock on the door. Ron was curled up on the ground by now, nearly in a fetal position, clearly struggling with something. His face was a mass of twitches, his arms and legs jerked spasmodically, and it seemed to be a major effort for him not to put his hands over his ears. He was definitely fighting it off.

Ginny sprang up and walked over to the door, prepared to tell whoever it was to bog off, she was finally making progress. However… "Hermione?" Ginny said worriedly, noticing the hard look on Hermione's face. "What's going on?"

"I'm just here to keep you company," Hermione said soothingly, wiping the hard look off her face. "Sorry, I just… spoke to Draco… and he's gone to see Isabelle," she added in an undertone, with a worried look at Ron in case he might suddenly leap up and attack.

"You didn't tell me," Ginny said coldly, glancing at Ron significantly. Hermione knew what she meant.

"I only found out last night," Hermione said, "But I'm sorry, anyway."

Ginny grabbed Hermione's hand. "Is Harry in danger?" she said, also in a low voice.

"Draco will look after him," Hermione promised, "I know he will."

"Are you sure it was the _real_ Draco you spoke to?" Ginny said worriedly.

"Real Draco? Do we have a fake Draco?" Hermione said.

"Yes, he enjoys moonlit walks, attempted rape, and classical music," Ginny said bluntly, quickly adding "I'm fine, I promise. And I was going to tell you. Merlin, Hermione, you can't complain I didn't tell you that when you never tell me anything."

Hermione nodded, her face getting some colour back at Ginny's show of how fine she was. "I'm _sure _it was the real one," Hermione said slowly, realising that this fake-Draco also explained why Gwen had believed Draco and Ginny had been kissing. Unless she really was just making it up. "He knew stuff he couldn't have known otherwise. How's Ron doing?"

"It's hard," Ginny cast another look at Ron, this time a worried one. "He's fighting it. I can't believe we didn't work it out earlier, how dumb are we? It helps him if I tell him stories, though. Memories. My voice is getting sore, though, how about you take over."

"I can talk about the Philosopher's Stone," Hermione said immediately, deciding to start at the beginning. The beginning of them. She took a step inside and was just about to close the door when they heard the sound of frantically running footsteps.

Bert entered the corridor, his face looking nearly grey and his breath coming in short pants. "I need help! It's the Chosen One! He's being attacked! There's so much blood!" He collapsed to his knees, breathing asthmatically. Then he forced himself to stand again. "I've got to get back, come on!" He raced off.

Ginny went so startlingly ash-white at the mention of blood that for a second Hermione thought she would faint. Rather more inured to the terror of Harry dying after seven years of it, Hermione grabbed her and forced her to sit. Feeling how cold she was, Hermione wrapped the nearest cloak around her, one of Ron's old grey ones. The overlarge hood fell into her eyes but they both ignored that.

"I have to go," Ginny said wildly, standing up too fast. "I have to go. _Harry_…"

"Don't…go…please…" Ron croaked from the corner, sounding like a wreck. "Please… so… hard…"

Ginny cast a fearful and yet hopeful glance at Hermione, as if expecting her to say no.

"I'll stay," Hermione assured her, trying hard not to let the terrible fear for Harry affect her answer. Ron was a mess, someone needed to stay with him, not least in case Isabelle ordered him to do something and he had to be stopped. And it was about time one of them acknowledged that Ginny had a greater right to Harry than she or Ron did – that Ginny was the one who should go to him, because she was the one who loved him the most. "I'll catch up with you if I can."

Ginny nodded, her pale face set, and grabbed her wand. She would have charged out the door if Hermione hadn't grabbed her for a second, pulling her into a quick hug. "You're like my sister," she said, aware that this was a new development, and that female friendships weren't really something she was used to. Hermione cleared her throat, trying to keep the tears out of her voice, "Be careful, all right?"

Ginny hugged her back and nodded again, without saying anything, and took off hastily, still with Ron's overlarge cloak swamping her smaller size.

Hermione turned around, opening her mouth to say something to Ron, but stopping when she realised he was standing up again, a nasty grin plastered on the face she knew so well. "Alone at last," he said evilly, and the door flew shut behind Hermione.

* * *

"Quick, Weasley's on the move!" Blaise hissed. They'd been peering around the corner from a distance for a while now, since Draco had pinched the cloak from them. "_Quick_, he's moving fast!" Ron was instantly recognizable by the terrible cloak that Astoria had described as making dragon vomit look attractive.

Astoria and him both broke into a run, too caught in the heat of the moment to notice the shortness of the person, just set on catching the figure in the ugly grey cloak. "He's heading for where Draco went!" Astoria said, panic in her voice. "We have to stop him -"

Before she could even finish the sentence, Blaise threw a silent spell at the departing figure, who spun around as it noisily struck the wall, revealing scared brown eyes and a long red plait. "Oh, Ginny," Blaise said, relieved. "Listen -"

He broke off abruptly as he barely dodged a spell Ginny threw at him, her eyes narrowing. "I should have known it was you," she spat out, and attacked in earnest.

* * *

**I'd like to thank Crystal for what is definitely the sweetest review I've ever gotten.**

**Things are heating up now, not long left to the end.**

**By the way, any people who aren't huge Ron fans should check this out: http : / / www . mugglenet . com / editorials / madampuddifoot / edit-king01 . shtml (remove the spaces)**


	27. Sink Or Swim

_Caught in the middle of a crossfire_

_Lost my balance on the high wire_

_Trying to figure out what to do._

_Pushed to the edge of my reason_

_Everywhere around me is treason_

_I don't want to do that to you._

- Tyrone Wells

* * *

"_Stupefy!_" Draco yelled, a bolt of red light exiting the cloak and missing Isabelle by inches as she threw herself to the ground. He should have done the spell silently, but saying it out loud made the spell easier to do – after all, the year they'd been learning wordless spells he'd been busy plotting murder. The incantation hit the wall behind Isabelle, exploding several pieces of brick.

Harry spun around at the yell, and saw where the bolt of light came from. Acting entirely on instinct, he threw himself at where he thought the invisible figure was and pulled the cloak away, yanking it unceremoniously over Draco's white-blonde head. "Hey," he said incredulously, holding it up, "This is my cloak."

Both figures ignored him, and Draco threw another spell at Isabelle. As he did it, he stepped a little away from Harry, shaking back the hair which Harry's abrupt cloak-stealing had messed up. Then he stepped to the side again, avoiding a spell Isabelle cast. "Stop, Isabelle, don't -" he started to stay sternly, and then hissed in frustration as he had to upend a table to block a spell. It caught on fire, burning merrily, and he pushed his temporary shield away from him.

"_Traitor_," Isabelle hissed back, sending another blast of light at him. Draco deflected it.

"Bitch," Draco said, almost manically cheerful. The worst had happened – he was trading hexes with the closest thing he had to a friend, and as of now he couldn't really see a way out of this whole mess for her. Isabelle was going down. "_Expelliarmus_!"

Isabelle let out a cry of annoyance as her wand flew into the air towards Draco. Reaching out quickly, she managed to nearly grab the end of it. It wobbled, flying off to the side as Draco's spell lost it.

"STOP!" Harry bellowed, suddenly realising exactly what was happening. It had taken him a few moments to figure out, but now he was ready to get involved. Draco was still a Death Eater – he should have _known_ the relationship with Hermione was nothing but a ploy. He pointed his wand at Draco. "Walk away from her! Throw down your wand!"

"Bite me," said Draco pleasantly, cursing himself for not having realised this would happen. In the split second when Harry's expression firmed, he dived over the bar.

Because of this Harry's Expelliarmus missed Draco and instead sent a bottle of vodka flying towards him, which he dodged. "Come out, coward!" he roared, and sent some more spells flying towards Malfoy. "You know I can beat you if we fight properly!"

"Then what the hell is my motivation for coming out?" Draco enquired, poking his head above the counter for several seconds, unable to resist delivering a snarky comment where possible. He then ducked down again to dodge the flurry of spells sent at him. "Listen, you moron -"

Isabelle crawled over to Harry, breathing heavily. "My wand," she said miserably, raising scared big eyes to Harry, "I lost my wand. You're standing on it. Can you move?" She tried to tug it out from under Harry's foot, but Harry was too busy throwing spells to notice.

Draco, hearing that, stood up and started throwing curses at the pair of them while she was defenceless. If Isabelle got her wand back, well, this would definitely get more complicated.

Harry parried them, sending curses back. He stood directly in front of the crouched Isabelle, guarding her. Little bolts of light flew through the air, sometimes ducked and sometimes deflected, always ending up exploding against the thick brick walls, which were starting to bear pockmarks.

Draco wondered idly if the manager would charge them for the damage.

Frankly, Harry was finding it all hard to process. He'd thought Draco was, if not a good guy now, at least not an actively bad one. But here he was, attacking one of the most defenceless people Harry knew.

"You moron!" Draco said, just loud enough for Harry to hear. "I'm trying to protect you!"

"From _what_?" Harry challenged. He thought it was one of the stupidest lies he'd ever heard.

Draco rolled his eyes, raising his wand again. Honestly, how dumb was the saviour of the world? "Look out!" he suddenly said, at the very last moment, eyes widening.

Even though Harry knew it had to be the lamest distraction in the world, he automatically turned to look behind him.

And met a chair coming the other way.

* * *

"Darling!" Ron said in a happy voice. "Aren't you pleased we can have some _alone _time?"

Hermione backed away. "It was a fake," she realised, her reluctant admiration for Isabelle growing, "Isabelle got you to _act_ like you were fighting her control, so we would underrate you."

"How do you know I'm under a spell?" Ron countered. "Maybe she just _asked _me to attack you. After all, I have plenty of reasons to. You cheated on me -"

"We weren't together," Hermione said heatedly. It was less about arguing with Ron, and more about trying to convince herself he was wrong. "_You _were with someone else."

"So it seemed like a good idea to go fuck my enemy?" Ron (_not _Ron, she reminded herself) said silkily. "Hurt me as much as possible? Shame you're a mudblood, 'Mione, you'd be an excellent Death Eater with that attitude – could have handed me in and watched me get tortured -"

"I _wouldn't -_"

"Sure you would, Hermione," Ron countered, almost nicely. Her wand flew out of her shaking hand, landing in his outstretched one. Hermione thought sourly that possession had apparently improved his wizarding skills quite annoyingly. "Watch me scream -"

She cursed herself for not having thought to disarm him straight away – now she was at a huge disadvantage. After all, what use was Hermione Granger without magic?

"You've watched _me _scream," Hermione cut in, as a wild idea flew into her mind. Draco had sent Ginny here to break the possession. Maybe she could do it the same way – memories, but maybe a different kind than happy families. "Bellatrix, torturing me, remember that? Remember how it felt to hear -"

"Shut up," Ron growled, but she'd seen his face twitch.

"She had a knife to my throat, I could feel it pressing in," Hermione continued inexorably. "My throat was sore from screaming -"

"I told you to _shut up_!" In one leap, he was across the room, and slapping her hard.

Hermione raised a hand to her face, and, to Ron's surprise, smiled triumphantly. This wasn't the fake whining about how hard it was that he'd affected with Ginny's earlier stories, but a far deeper and more dangerous shift.

She couldn't understand why any of them – who supposedly knew Ron so well – could have thought that good memories would have the most effect on him. Ron's childhood was filled with sunlit, simple happiness, so it should be no revelation that it was the – far fewer – bad moments he dwelled on. He always had, because for him those were the things that upset the status quo. She should have realised that earlier.

She would have to be brutal.

"Remember when you wanted to kill Death Eaters, after Fred died?" Hermione said ruthlessly, hiding the tremble in her own voice. "And I told you we had to do our duty – had to _get the snake_ – we had to leave his body there and I could barely _stand _it, and you looked like you were about to pass out -"

This time Ron shuddered, not in horror, but like he was trying to suppress something. The real Ron, probably.

The room shook, and Hermione grabbed onto the wall to steady herself. "Well, that's definitely not a good sign," she said, through dry lips. "Ron, please! We _need_ you! The real you!"

"Shut up," Ron growled. He pointed his wand at her again, backing away from her closeness.

Hermione took a step closer to him, following him. "Remember when we thought Harry was dead?" she said softly.

Ron let out an inarticulate noise, and made a slashing motion with his wand. Hermione yelped as a deep cut appeared on her right cheek. Nevertheless, she continued. "He was all pale – he looked so _little_ in Hagrid's arms -"

"_Shut up_!" Another cut appeared, Hermione whimpered a little at the pain. She could feel warm blood dripping down her face. She stepped forward again. She could nearly reach out and touch him, now.

Hermione decided to change subjects. "How about when you left us in the forest – just took off – I _chased after you_, Ron, but you left – Aah!" A deep slice appeared over her collar bone, but Hermione had definitely seen Ron's expression change a little. She forced herself to take another step, even though her cuts hurt like crazy. She felt like she was soaked in blood by now.

"I chased after you, yelling that _I loved you _-"

"Didn't take you long – to change – your mind," Ron choked out, twitching. Tears were starting to appear in his eyes. He slashed the wand again, and a painful slice appeared on her stomach.

"I never changed my mind!" Hermione yelled. To her surprise, she found that she was sobbing. "I _never_ did! I loved you, and I _love_ you, and you're an _idiot_! I _always_ love you and you _always _leave! I'll always love you – even if it's not the way you want – even if we'll never be _like that – _for as long as I live – ow! No matter – _no matter what you do!_"

The room shook again, and Hermione careened forward the last few steps, embracing Ron. She felt him drop the wand. "Promise?" He said, in quite a different voice.

"I love you," Hermione sobbed. At that moment, she didn't know whether she meant the romantic kind of love that she'd been trying not to mention, or the best-friends kind of love they would always have. All she knew was that this was _Ron_, and she would do whatever it took to save him.

"…you too," Ron managed, and then collapsed, taking the much-smaller Hermione with him.

* * *

"What?" was the only thing Blaise could say before Ginny's spell slammed him hard into the wall.

"Leave him _alone_!" Astoria screamed, sending a slashing hex at Ginny, who managed to bring up a shield in time. It ricocheted and hit the ceiling. "What the hell is _wrong _with you?"

Blaise managed to pull himself to his feet, wincing. "Ginny – we didn't mean to attack you, we thought you were -"

"You _Imperiused_ my brother!" Ginny shot another spell, this time at Astoria, who managed to get out of the way.

"That wasn't me!" Blaise protested, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace – which, he realised a few seconds later, would probably be much more peaceful if he hadn't been holding up his wand as well.

"Oh, and I suppose you _also _didn't try and _rape _me yesterday?" Ginny hit Astoria in the arm with a curse that made her shake uncontrollably.

"B-b-bitch," Astoria said shakily, before managing to take off the spell. Blaise was quietly impressed – normally Astoria wasn't much of a duellist. "Because _of course_ you're so irresistible Zabini would just follow you around for days waiting for a chance at your delectable body? News for you, Weasel girl: you aren't that hot."

"It was probably somebody pretending to be me," suggested Blaise helpfully, "Well, I mean, it _definitely _was, because it wasn't me. Wait, you said _try_, didn't you, I mean you weren't actually -"

"They were pretending to be Draco," Ginny informed him haughtily. Encouraged by the fact that she'd lowered her wand slightly, Blaise continued.

"I would _never_ pretend to be Draco," he said fervently, "I swear. He's a tosser. And nowhere near as hot as he thinks he is – wait, maybe it actually was Draco!" Blaise looked so happy at that prospect that Ginny wasn't all surprised when Astoria kicked him in the shin.

"Shut up, loser," she grated, "Listen, Weasley, _we're on your side now._ We are not here in any official, Isabelle-ordered capacity. We just want to keep our friends safe."

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" Ginny challenged. "I'm supposed to think that you just saw the wonderful light of goodness?"

"It's a risk," Astoria acknowledged. "But honestly, isn't it a bigger risk not to trust us? I mean, we could fight, and you might even win, but every second we spend here is a second that your sweetheart could be getting killed and _you're not there to help_. And, quite frankly, the odds are in our favour of winning this fight."

Ginny processed the good sense of that, and lowered her wand. "Fine," she all but growled, "Let's go."

Before Ginny had even finished her sentence, she saw Astoria's eyes widen. About to ask what was wrong, she felt her wand get neatly yanked out of her hand, and fly behind her.

As she spun around, she saw Blaise's and Astoria's wands fly high over her head, to land in the clutch of the person blocking their way.

"Hello, Ginny," Bert the photographer purred, his mask of laconic stupidity long gone. "You look hot. _Sexy, even_." And then he laughed.

* * *

The loud _crack_ the chair made as it hit him made even Draco flinch, though Isabelle appeared unmoved as her former boyfriend collapsed to the ground. He didn't look quite unconscious, she mused, just highly confused and with probable concussion. "Izzy?" Harry managed, reaching his wand hand involuntarily up to the large bump on his head. "Wha'?"

"You are slow," sighed Isabelle. "And I _hate_ being called Izzy." She raised the chair emotionlessly and prepared to bring it down again.

"_Accio _chair!" Draco said loudly, pulling the chair out of her hands. It crashed through a window.

Isabelle went back into her half-crouch instantly, hiding behind Harry's body, and grabbed Potter's wand from his hand and stuffed it down her shirt. "I did _ask_ you to move," she said conversationally to the semi-conscious Gryffindor as she located her own wand too. "Listening is the key to any successful relationship."

As Draco sent several more spells her way, trying hard not to hit Harry, she crawled behind the still-smoking table he'd used as a defence earlier. From that angle she was able to shoot spells at Harry, Draco realised, but was still protected from _him._ He had only a few seconds before she shot a spell at Potter – probably an unforgivable one.

Panic made his mind work faster. "_Accio_ Potter!" he yelled, and was rewarded by the sight of Harry sliding halfway towards him along the slippery floor. He leapt out from behind the bar and started to drag Harry the rest of the way, only to be stopped as Isabelle emerged from her own defences and shot a spell at the bar.

The bar counter exploded into flames, sparks shooting off like from fireworks. Half-blinded, Draco stumbled away from it. "_Shit_," he swore loudly, as one of the sparks lit Harry's shirt on fire. "Wake _up_, Potter, you idiot!" He noticed in dismay that Potter seemed to be floating in and out of consciousness, and beat his hand against the small flames emanating from Harry's shirt. In seconds his shirt was charred but not actively aflame anymore, but they were still completely defenceless out in the open, and Draco realised he'd burned his hand quite badly.

It was a distant pain, barely noticeable in the flood of adrenaline caused by the fight, but would no doubt hurt more later. Draco felt annoyed with himself – he should have found something to cover his hands with before putting out the fire. This is what hanging out with Gryffindors did to you, replaced your self-preservation with noble stupidity.

They didn't have anywhere to go. There was nothing around to hide behind, he couldn't go anywhere carrying Potter, and as soon as he moved Potter would die. In fact, if the bad concussion was anything to go by, Potter might die even if Isabelle didn't Avada Kedavra him.

After a second's thought, Draco stood up. He let his wand hang by his side.

"You're surrendering?" Isabelle said incredulously, popping up from behind the table.

"No," Draco said, "I'm not. Exactly. This is ridiculous. Christ, Isabelle, just look at this place!" The bar area was certainly a wreck. The walls all bore scorch marks and dents, the floor was covered with fallen bricks, the furniture was in pieces, and the support pillar in the middle of the room looked cracked and unhealthy. Draco took a deep breath. "If you want to finish it, finish it."

"You'll just _let_ me kill him?" Isabelle sounded grateful. Her eyes shone. Draco noted the black soot marks on her skeletally-thin face with a kind of distant fondness mixed with sorrow. Why did it always come down to his choice?

"No," Draco said impassively, "I'll let you kill me."

Even from the distance, he could see Isabelle freeze. "_No_," she said immediately, "Get out of the _way_, I have to, it's his fault my father's dead -"

"_Who cares_," Draco said loudly. "My father's in jail thanks to him, you think I'm not upset? Doesn't mean you get to kill him. We all _lost_ people, Isabelle, I don't _care_ how close you were to your father -"

To his surprise, Isabelle let out a strangled laugh. "_Close? _Draco, you idiot, that's… that's a word purebred society uses." At this look of confusion, she elaborated. "It's a euphemism." She let out another terrible, broken laugh, before losing it completely. "'_Close'_? My father and I were 'close'? That's what you heard from your parents! 'Close' meant bruises all over me, horrible nightmares, my mother closing her eyes at it, my friends never being allowed to stay the night, wishing my door had a lock every fucking day from when I was six till when I went to Hogwarts! …That's what purebred society does, Draco. They close their eyes. They all knew it. And none of them did a damn thing, because my father was popular and important and rich. Yeah, we were 'close'. And now he's dead." Her voice was a whisper by the end. Draco stood stock still, his expression a mask of horror.

"Oh God," Draco said. His immediate instinct was to go to her, he even managed several steps before he remembered that he couldn't – he had to protect Potter. If he went over there, he might be able to comfort her, talk her down, take care of her; but that was only a _might_. If he couldn't he would be breaking his promise to Hermione.

"He was the only person I ever had," Isabelle whispered. Her eyes were empty. Draco realised he couldn't imagine what was inside her – what had been done to her, what ways her mind had been twisted by her father and her mother and even more by herself. "_I don't care_ if he was a good guy or a bad guy… there are no good guys, they're all bad guys but this is the only one who ever _wanted_ me and that bastard _took him_ and I can't even remember…" her voice broke again. "I can't remember all these things I should, there's holes in my mind, I took away my own _memory _and I don't know what I did – what he did – during the darknesses… what if…" Draco could see her hands shaking from the distance. Deep inside Isabelle, parts of her were shifting like tectonic plates, colliding, breaking her and all that could be seen were slight tremors on the top. Like earthquakes.

"Isabelle," Draco whispered. "Don't – this isn't worth it -"

"It has to be," Isabelle said quietly, "After all, it's the only thing I've got left." She moved her hand slightly, so that her wand pointed directly at Draco's heart. There wasn't time for him to raise his wand, Draco realised, staring into her remorseless eyes.

* * *

It took Ginny several seconds to recover from her shock. "You were the one in the closet," she breathed, horrified. It had never even crossed her mind.

"I like young girls," Bert said meditatively, "You're older than my usual, but quite attractive anyway. Not that I cherish any fond feelings for you at all, anymore." He scowled at her, "I got _punished _thanks to you."

"So Isabelle did do that," Ginny said numbly. She felt Isabelle and Blaise coming forward to stand with her – almost definitely Blaise's idea. "She said she'd kill you, actually. Well, implied it."

Bert looked even more annoyed. "I don't think we need any more of your comments," he snapped. "_Silencio_."

"How about my comments?" Astoria said in an excessively perky voice. "How about, you are a creepy ephebophile slash pedophile who seems both annoying and disobedient – can't imagine why Isabelle hired you. Personally I think we did better, don't you, Blaise?"

Astoria was walking to the left while she talked. Ginny realised what they were trying to do – Bert could only cast a spell on one of them at once, so Astoria and Blaise were planning to both attack him from different sides. Blaise was, when she checked, walking slowly to the right.

"Well, I'm a good actor, for starters! 'Blood, blood, the Chosen One is dying'!" he mimicked himself. "But mainly, she hired me because I'm the only one who shares her vision," Bert grinned wolfishly. "I'm the only one who dreams of raising the Dark Lord with her!"

There was a brief pause, and then Astoria nearly fell down, she was laughing so hard. "Oh Merlin, she really said that? The Dark Lord is dead -"

"He's been dead once before!" Bert said, religious fervour shining in his eyes. "And when he comes back from there again, he will punish the non-believers!" The floor shook, and Ginny looked down, worried.

"She was playing you," Blaise observed cheerfully. When Bert's attention swung to him, both Ginny and Astoria crept forwards some more. "Isabelle doesn't give a damn about the Dark Lord."

"Yes she does!" Bert insisted, "She worked out that all we have to do to make him return is sacrifice Harry Potter to him!"

"I'm sure she did," Astoria said in a soothing voice. "Right, so I have to add 'religious nutter' to my list about you. Honestly, _so_ hard to get good help these days. My mother says -"

But Ginny never got to hear what Astoria's mother said, because at that moment Bert screamed "_Crucio!_" and Astoria fell to the ground, screaming in agony.

Ginny blocked it out. They weren't too far from him now, if she and Blaise just moved a _little _quicker they could get to him without alerting him that they were -

"YOU BASTARD!" Blaise lost all of his self-control at the sound of Astoria's heartrending, pain-saturated screams, throwing himself straight at Bert, his eyes crazed and furious. "Stop – _don't _-"

The photographer managed to bring his wand around just in time, leaving Astoria a sobbing mess on the floor and hitting Blaise with a _Petrificus Totalus. _"How _dare_ you try and attack me?" Bert growled, "A priest of the Dark One? For that, you can _watch_ me kill your little girlfriend -" On his way back to pointing his wand at Astoria, he thrust it towards Ginny just to remind her he was watching. "Move back, Ginny," he said sweetly. "Move back and _watch_."

But Ginny was watching – she'd seen Astoria raise her head and give her a very clear look. It implied that Astoria was nowhere near as wrecked as she appeared. It had been a look that clearly said, wait for my sign. She was, as Ginny watched, squirming closer to Bert, and when he finally brought the wand around to rest on her, Astoria acted.

"_Cru _– OW!" Bert yelled, as Astoria sank her sharp nails into the sensitive back of his knee. He shook his leg like she was a dog biting him, but she only clutched harder, drawing blood.

Ginny knew this was the signal and raced forward, managing to grab one wand before he blew her backwards with a spell.

Ginny slammed against the wall even harder than Blaise had before, and felt one of her leg bones break as she fell. She moaned in pain, and heard Astoria yell as she was hit with another Cruciatus Curse.

"Little _bitch_," snarled Bert, finishing the curse after a minute of watching her pain, and finishing her with a _Stupefy. _"You can't _imagine_ the things I'm going to do to _you_ when this is over."

Ginny tried to turn herself over so she could see more than the ceiling. It had been hard listening to Astoria's renewed screams, and even harder being afraid that Bert would kill her. She couldn't imagine how Blaise felt, frozen less than a foot away from where Ginny had landed, probably able to see as well as hear.

Her leg hurt like hell, it was incredibly painful, even worse than the bone she'd broken in the Ministry that time. However, Ginny knew how to handle pain. "_Finite Incantatem_," she whispered in her mind, pointing the wand in the direction she knew Blaise was. She started trying to get up, but then felt a strong hand pull the wand from her grip.

"Leave this to me," Blaise whispered, sounding savage. "_STUPEFY! STUPEFY!_"

Finally able to pull herself around, Ginny watched Bert block the first spell, but he was unable to block the second. It was as if Blaise's furious anger had slowed Bert's reactions. In seconds, Bert was lying on the floor.

Then Ginny watched as Blaise went and revived Astoria, hugging her. "Astoria, you moron, don't you know enough not to piss off a psychopath?" he said shakily, hugging her so tightly that she let out a muffled noise of protest. "You absolute _idiot_."

"Says the guy who tackled him," Astoria countered, shivering with the after effects of her torture. "It's okay – I'm fine – you don't need to _carry _me, save that for the Weaselette, she doesn't look exactly healthy -"

Suddenly, a chunk of the roof fell down, barely a foot from Ginny. She tried to make a noise, but the silencing charm was still working on her. Then she felt arms around her as Blaise picked her up. "Let's get the hell out of here," Blaise said grimly.

* * *

Hermione didn't know how long she sat there, holding Ron as he shook. However, eventually he looked up, clear-eyed. "We have to move," he said shortly, "Something bad's happening."

"What?" Hermione said. The room trembled again, as if to answer her question. Hermione swallowed hard. "How do you know -"

Ron frowned. "In my head… the voice there… _Isabelle_… she's telling me to get out. She says the place is falling down. We need to get the journalist – she's unconscious in a wardrobe – and we need to _get out of here._"

* * *

It was an entirely automatic reaction as Isabelle shot the spell at him – a reaction he couldn't control, honed by countless people trying to hex him. Draco always did a shield spell, involuntarily, as a kind of last-ditch hope – he'd done it when his Aunt Bella had thrown a Cruciatus spell at him, once, and she'd thought it was hilarious. Shield spells couldn't stop the Unforgiveable Curses. They certainly couldn't stop the worst one of all.

And so, if it had been a Killing Curse, Draco Malfoy would have died.

But it wasn't. A red light instead of a sickly green one shot towards him, deflected off his shield, and slammed into the support pillar in the centre of the room, which made an ominous cracking sound. It seemed like it had hit a weak point.

"Isabelle?" Draco said incredulously, "Why didn't you – Isabelle, _move!_" The innumerable spells that had ravaged the room had weakened the walls, and now the support pillar was starting to crumble.

Isabelle looked confused, for a second, and then turned to look behind her. A falling chunk of rock hit her shoulder, making her cry out, and she fell to her knees. She screamed as more rocks started to tumble towards her. The ceiling seemed to have started the slow process of falling down, Draco noted numbly. He left Harry behind and dashed forward to try and grab Isabelle and pull her away, but just then a large rock hit her on the abdomen, piercing it before tumbling away. She let out another agonised shriek, and suddenly the support pillar completely disintegrated.

"ISABELLE! NO!" All of Draco's customary coolness was destroyed as instantly as Isabelle was covered completely. He thought he could see Isabelle's figure under there – he could definitely here her distressed whimpers – but he couldn't get to her – "_Accio rock, accio rock, accio rock, ACCIO ROCKS!"_

The rocks trickled away, and Draco could see Isabelle's face. He frantically started shifting the rocks, ignoring his magic to do it with his hands, desperately afraid. In his mind he was ten again, his sister trapped beneath a heavy weight, dead. He had to save her.

When he'd nearly cleared down to her waist – ignoring the horrifying noises as the hotel started to fall down around them – a slender, pale hand reached up to grab his wrist. He looked, shocked, into Isabelle's grey eyes. She was bruised all over, her body broken and bloodied.

"Stop," Isabelle said quietly, "I can't feel anything at all… this is useless…" she managed a weak smile. Draco noticed, absently, that she seemed more at ease than he'd ever seen her before. "Just stop it, Draco." She coughed, and blood dribbled down her face.

"I'm not going to give up on you," Draco said fiercely, continuing to shift the rocks.

"Hah," said Isabelle, the ghost of laughter on her face, "Guess I was wrong thinking my father was the only one who cared…good thing I didn't kill you, then…" She coughed again, and Draco could hear the wheeze in it. Her smile faded completely. She closed her eyes for a second, concentrating – it looked like she was trying to send a message to someone telepathically. Draco wondered if she was giving Weasley orders. "Didn't think you cared… but I couldn't… I couldn't _kill_ you…" There was a strange gurgling noise in her throat, and she went silent.

"Isabelle? _Isabelle_?"

"Like my brother," Isabelle choked out, so quietly Draco wasn't sure he heard it, "miss you." And then she stopped talking, and stopped breathing as well.

"ISABELLE!"

* * *

"I don't understand," Gwen said, breathing asthmatically. "What happened? What's going on? Why did Bert do that?" Lumps of brick fell everywhere around them, it was pure luck that none of them had been hit so far.

"It's okay," Hermione said soothingly, "Just keep following us." She also added a mental apology to the woman for their assumption she was evil – it turned out that she was instead just gossipy, nosy and annoying. Hermione had already worked out that it was Bert who'd told Gwen that Draco and Ginny had been kissing, and also Bert who'd pretended to be Draco.

She wished she knew where Bert was now, though, because she was seriously worried about the others. Still, since they were heading to the bar area, they should find the others soon. The other reason they were heading for the bar area was that it had, as far as Hermione could remember, a window large enough for them to get out, and it was nearer than the exit.

"Here we are," said Ron, trying to sound bright. Looking at him, though, Hermione could see that he was a wreck – memories seemed to be coming back to him in bits and pieces, making him flinch away from her.

Hermione sped up, entering the room, and nearly gasped at the devastation. "_Harry_," she gasped, starting forward. Harry was terrifyingly pale, with a huge bump on his head, and some of the falling bricks had left him with rapidly darkening bruises. He blinked hazily up at Hermione as she threw herself down next to him.

"Mmnmm," he said. "Hgyptz."

"Harry, wake _up_," Hermione said, shaking him without thinking. Harry winced, but his eyes cleared a little.

"What's hap-nern?" he managed to say, and Hermione gestured to Ron to help pull him up. It was only then that she noticed that Ron's attention was divided – he was looking at Draco. Hermione gaped at Draco's expression as he ceaselessly brushed his hand over Isabelle's dark hair, neatening it pointlessly. As she watched he reached out and closed her eyes too.

"Draco?"

"She's dead," Draco said shortly, still staring down at her. "I got the rocks off her though."

_Dead. _Hermione fought the urge to throw up. _Dead._ Ron moved towards Draco, probably to say something tactless.

Suddenly a lump of rock the size of a car fell from the ceiling, less then five metres from Ron. The noise and pressure, even from where Hermione was standing, was incredible. The whole room shock, and the floor started to crack up.

Ron didn't even have time to yell before he lost his footing and was catapulted into the gaping maw. Hermione didn't know how he did it, but, fast as a striking snake, Draco raced forward and grabbed Ron's arm in a monkey grip. "Hold on, Weasley," he said, and pulled him back up with no discernable effort.

"You saved my life," Ron said, breathing hard, and backing away to a more stable area. He looked disbelieving.

"Yes," Draco said emotionlessly, and waked towards Isabelle again. As the others watched, he picked her up and strode over to the window. "Are we leaving now?"

"Not without us," Astoria sang out, entering the room. Blaise followed her, carrying a wan Ginny. When Ginny saw Harry she went even paler.

"He's alright," Hermione said quickly, "Just a bit concussed. Here, Ron, help me get him up." They managed to drag Harry across to the window.

"Third storey," noted Draco, still with Isabelle over his shoulder. "You lot go first, I'll _Wingardium Leviosa _you so you land more safely."

* * *

Blaise thought, afterwards, that it seemed like some kind of dream. If he'd been a muggle he would have amended that, and said it was like a scene out of a movie – all of them leaving the dark, smoky, collapsing old hotel, bursting out of the window into the fiercely bright sunshine.

It was a cold kind of brightness, but after the shadows that had dominated the inside of the hotel, Blaise thought it woke him up. He looked around at the others in a kind of disbelief – _we made it, we're here_.

The two groups had spread out a bit – they were all quite far away from the collapsing hotel now, but the Slytherins still stayed separate from the Gryffindors by quite a distance. Gwen had gone to get help – for the hotel, and for their injuries.

There wasn't a single one of them who didn't look like they'd been in a war. Ginny had a visibly broken leg, and her pale face tautened with pain as she dragged herself over to her injured boyfriend from where Blaise had left her. Harry Potter looked much less like a hero with unfocused eyes and bruises everywhere, though at least he was able to sit up now. Astoria couldn't stop shaking. Granger, now, she was covered in deep cuts that didn't look comfortable. Draco and Isabelle were both covered in soot, and – was that _blood_?

It took Blaise less than a second to force his sore body over to where Isabelle was lying, with Draco still staring at her. "She's not moving," Blaise said, as if stating the obvious. "Is she okay? What happened?"

"The roof fell down," Draco said. He looked up at Blaise. "I brought her out, you know. Even though I knew it was pointless."

"Pointless?" Blaise echoed. By now Astoria had drifted away from the Gryffindors to join them – the Gryffindors were busy hugging each other, exclaiming happily about how they'd all made it, about how Ron was fine now, about how they were all _fine_.

Draco looked slowly at them too. Hermione and Ron, he noticed, had their arms around each other, whispering into each others ears. _She looks so happy_, he thought dully. And wasn't that typical, the Gryffindors getting a happy ending?

He turned back to Blaise and Astoria. "The ceiling fell down," he repeated, "I couldn't… there was nothing I could do."

If I hadn't used a shield charm…

Astoria let out a little gasp. She knelt and grabbed her best friend's wrist, feeling for a pulse. With a sardonic look, Draco picked up her other hand and then just let it fall limply back onto the grass.

Back over with Ron, Hermione was trying to lean away from him as he nuzzled against her, nearly sobbing, repeating that he was sorry over and over again. All Hermione could do was repeat, "It wasn't you, Ron. It _wasn't you_." Over and over again.

She wanted to get to Draco. He looked like a wreck. Beside him, Astoria had her face buried in Blaise's shoulder, her whole body shaking with sobs. Blaise, despite his darkness, had turned a grey colour. He was staring at Isabelle's body like he couldn't believe it. As she watched, he dragged Astoria a little way away from the corpse.

Gently, Hermione prised Ron off her. "I have to go talk to them," she said apologetically. "Make sure they're okay." Without another look, she walked over to Draco as quickly as she could.

"Hello," he said, without looking up from Isabelle's face. Her eyes were closed, those eyes so much like his sister's… he hadn't been able to stop that either… "Your face looks sore."

Hermione reached her hand up to touch one of the cuts self-consciously. "It is sore. Draco, please look at me."

"I don't know if I can," Draco said, inflectionless. Isabelle's face filled his whole sight, right now – to look at Hermione would be to ask for her comfort. He didn't deserve comfort. He'd made all these choices, and they'd boiled down to this – Isabelle lying dead, as Hermione embraced the Weasel. The first one meant he deserved the second one.

"You loved her, didn't you," Hermione said softly. It wasn't really a question. She could see his face.

"I did," Draco admitted. He didn't add that he meant like a sister or a friend, too dazed to understand the conclusion she was coming to.

Hermione nodded jerkily. "I'd better… get back. People will be here soon." She turned around and started to leave.

"Wait," Draco said, stalling her. "When they do… tell them it was an accident. No one's fault. Make everybody say that."

"_What? _Draco, I'm not going to lie -" Hermione started to say.

"You told me to defend Potter, or you'd never forgive me. That I should do _whatever I had to_," Draco said, with steel in his tone. He didn't mean to be a bastard, but he had no reserves of niceness left in him after today. He would do whatever it took to stop Isabelle becoming vilified by any kind of history. "I did whatever I had to – you're _looking_ at what I did. Now you do this for me."

Hermione flinched, glancing at Isabelle. _He blames me_, she thought, _he blames me for the death of the person he loved._

Draco knew he was lashing out at her, that it was his own fault Isabelle was dead and he just wanted to hurt other people too. After a second he sighed and turned. "Listen, Hermione -"

But she was gone, back to holding the Weasel closely, whispering who-knew-what in his ear. Draco thought the words looked like 'I love you' but couldn't tell from the distance. "Goodbye, Hermione," he said to no one in particular, and returned to his guilt and grief.

* * *

**I hope you like it. Don't worry, not the last chapter! There's at least one to go, possibly more.**

**I know the song seems very dissonant to the story, but I love it so I don't really care.**


	28. Accidentally In Love

_Well baby I surrender_

_To the strawberry ice cream_

_Never ever end of all this love_

_Well I didn't mean to do it_

_But there's no escaping your love_

_These lines of lightning_

_Mean we're never alone,_

_Never alone, no, no_

- Counting Crows

* * *

"The Slytherins are back."

Hermione jolted at the words, nearly dropping the book she was reading. Then she forced herself to calm down and stay very still. Ron looked up at his sister's words, a scowl already forming on his face, whereas Harry didn't even need to fake his indifference.

"About time," Harry remarked. As long as Ginny was here with him, Hogwarts could be populated with a thousand Slytherins and he wouldn't care. "Professor McGonagall only said they could have a couple of days with their families to grieve, and they've been gone a whole week. Are all of them back?"

"Yes," Ginny said, settling next to Harry in the chair. She leaned into him but kept her eyes on Hermione. "All of them."

Hermione put a bookmark in and put the book down, noticing absently that her hands were shaking a little. _He's back._

It had been a strange week. The loss of Isabelle had rebounded through Hogwarts, causing people who didn't even know her to mourn her loss on the basis of her having been the Chosen One's girlfriend. In that context, Harry's renewed relationship with Ginny only served to make him look unbelievably shallow, which Hermione had assumed was why they didn't kiss or hug in public – except, according to Ginny, they didn't do those things in private either. Ginny said they still had things to sort out, but she still seemed happy pressed against him.

Much to her surprise, Harry and Ron had immediately agreed to lie about Isabelle's actions. The actual story would make Harry look stupid, and Ron look evil. Ron couldn't have dealt with hordes of reporters asking him how many of his actions had been his own and whether he'd enjoyed what he'd done. As it was, Ron shuddered frequently as more memories poured in, and looked gaunt and wrecked. What good would telling the truth do? There was no one who would be helped by it, and many people would be hurt.

All of them had been offered time at home to come to terms with their loss and refused, while Astoria, Blaise and Draco all accepted. The Headmistress had even forbore to give them detention, despite Astoria and Blaise's illegal presence at the hotel.

Hermione spent all her time with Ron, now. She held him while he shook, talked to him about trivial subjects to distract him, and let him beat her at chess repeatedly. Sometimes it seemed the more she did the tighter he clung to her, though, and Hermione could feel an ache at those times when he looked at her as if she was a miracle. She didn't want to be his miracle. She also didn't want to be his girlfriend, she now knew, and she dreaded the inevitable questions from him as he got better.

One of the things that bothered Ron the most was that the first time he'd had sex, he hadn't been himself. He'd been being controlled by Isabelle and none of it had been real. Hermione had tried to persuade him to look on it as Isabelle had had sex rather than him, but it was slow going.

And Draco had not been here.

"It doesn't matter whether they're back," Hermione said, a little snappishly, "It doesn't affect us either way. They're nothing to do with us."

* * *

When Astoria spotted Draco she let out an ear-splitting screech and threw herself into his arms. He staggered back but managed to remain upright. "Merlin, Astoria, what are you doing?" he managed to say. "What happened to your _conduct_?"

"I don't think she has any," Blaise observed, "Not anymore. Honestly, no wonder her parents like the perfect Daphne so much -" Astoria spun to glare at him, and Blaise finished hastily, "She's a dead bore, just like them."

"When did you two get back?" Draco enquired.

"An hour ago," Astoria replied. "Blaise stayed at my house for the week, since his mother's remarrying again."

"I think this one might last out the year," Blaise said. "Just about, anyway. Possibly."

"So what's the gossip?" Draco said carefully, looking at Astoria, who was hanging on his arm now.

She batted her eyes at him. "I don't _gossip_, darling. Plus I've only been back an hour." At his level look, she caved. "Fine, but it isn't pleasant. The Weasel is attached to your girl like a malignant growth, and frankly if you want to duel him I'd love to be your second since his soppy looks are making me sick. Apparently he's been there all week – are you planning to get her back?"

Draco just shook his head.

"You should," Blaise said abruptly and uncharacteristically. He was glaring at Astoria as she leant her head on Draco's shoulder and smiled up at him flirtatiously. "You saved all their lives, there should be massive booty-points in that."

"I _endangered_ all their lives," Draco growled, "She deserves better." Draco remembered listening to her when she was feverish – her desperate declarations of love for Weasley. He'd known all along that he would lose her, really, he'd just been fooling here was the confirmation of what he'd already known, like clockwork. Good thing he'd planned for this.

"Yes, _better_," Astoria said, "Unfortunately instead of that she's got the Weasel. What are you going to do, sit around and watch them get cuddly?"

"I have…other plans," Draco said. "I'm going to go to my room, and we're not going to talk about this anymore. Frankly, anyone as oblivious to any kind of emotion as you two shouldn't be giving advice to anyone."

"What does that mean?" Astoria said indignantly, but Draco was already gone. "Blaise, he was clearly talking to you. You're the oblivious one. What are you oblivious about?"

Blaise frowned. "Maybe he means Ginny. What I feel for her. I mean, that's the only emotion I've got, really, except for the occasional nausea when you make puppy-dog eyes at Malfoy. Maybe I should go talk to her."

"And then you can abduct her," Astoria said, faux cheerfully, "Since she's shown with breath-taking clarity that that's the only way you have a shot. Ooh, or love potion. You could dose her pumpkin juice -" Suddenly she cut herself off. "What do you think Draco meant, 'other plans'?"

"I think I don't care about Draco," Blaise said coolly. "I'm going to go talk to Ginny. _I'm _not oblivious."

"Fine," Astoria snapped, nettled. "I'm going to go talk to Draco, then." She turned and stalked towards Draco's room.

When she entered, Draco had just opened the bag he'd brought back. He looked up at her entrance. "What are you doing here?"

"We have to talk." Astoria threw herself down on his bed. "About Isabelle."

Draco paused in the middle of putting some clothes in the bag. "No, we don't."

"It's not your fault."

"I never said it was," Draco pointed out.

Astoria rolled her eyes. "More than ten goddamn years I've known you, Draco, and you don't think I know how to read you? You think it's your fault, and I'm telling you, it's not."

"If I hadn't shielded," Draco said slowly, "I would have been unconscious and Isabelle would have lived."

"In _Azkaban_," Astoria stressed. "Potter would be dead. She'd be arrested."

"She was going to blame it on Weasley, even make _him _think he did it," Draco said shortly, emptying one of his drawers.

"She would still have been a murderer!" Astoria said fiercely. "And Isabelle – the real Isabelle, under all that paranoia and grief and fucked-up-ness – she would never have wanted that.

Draco allowed himself a small smile. "I don't think fucked-up-ness is a word."

"And yet, it's the perfect one for our dear departed friend," Astoria drawled. Then she returned to seriousness with a sigh. "It's her own fault she died, not yours. She was damaged, really damaged. A very crappy life. But that doesn't give her a reason – that doesn't give her the _right_ – to become a murderer. And she knew that, at the end, didn't she? Refused to kill you, apparently warned Weasley via their link that the hotel was coming down, and didn't even try to shoot some kind of final spell at Potter. At the very end, she did the right thing, and if she had to die for that to happen _so be it_!" Astoria stopped, breathing heavily.

Draco looked mildly impressed at her outburst. "You seem remarkably… fine."

"_Fine_? She was my best friend!" Suddenly Astoria burst into tears. Draco, surprised, got up and hugged her, pulling her against him. She was beautiful and attractive and distressed, pressed against him, and Draco felt a burst of affection for her.

"It's okay," he said, holding her close. "It's going to be okay." Astoria looked up, her face covered in tear-stains, and pressed her lips against a shocked Draco.

After less than a second, she pulled away. "I don't think I ever loved you," she remarked, in a tone of discovery. "Except maybe as a brother, of course."

Draco winced. "Don't say that. Girls who say that tend to die."

For a second Astoria looked horrified, and then she started laughing. Draco, unable to help himself, started laughing too. They ended up both rolling around, giggling helplessly at the sheer dark humour of it all. The disturbing wrongness.

Astoria was the first to catch her breath, as something unexpected occurred to her. "Draco…you're supposed to be unpacking. But you're not. You're packing."

Draco nodded soberly. "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd yell at me, but I'm just here to pick up my stuff. It's time to enter the real world at last, I feel," he attempted a smile.

Astoria sat up, her hair messy. "Bullshit. You're leaving because Granger's with the Weasel."

"It's time to move on," Draco said stubbornly, looking away. "I think I'll be happier somewhere else, now. My mother's forgiven me, so perhaps I'll spend some time at the Manor. Or I could travel, I've always wanted to travel. Maybe I'll start learning how to manage all the Malfoy interests -"

"_No_," Astoria stared at him. "You can't go."

Draco sighed, dropping the act. "I _have _to. I can't be here, can't watch her – I'll be gone by this afternoon. Actually, I have something for you to give her after I'm gone, a goodbye present."

"I won't," Astoria said, "Give it to her yourself."

"Please?" Draco looked at her helplessly. Despite knowing she was being manipulated, Astoria gave in.

"Fine," she snarled, and he threw her a small package. "You bastard, how can you leave us?"

Draco attempted a smile. "Cheer up, I'll see you in the holidays." He threw some more clothes in the bag he'd brought, and then waved his wand. All of his furnishings disappeared, presumably into the deceptively small bag. "There, done. I have to go speak to McGonagall, and then I'll go."

"Come back here first and say goodbye," Astoria said, choking up, "A proper goodbye. And one to Blaise as well. We deserve it."

"Fine, I promise," Draco said, and gently reached out touch her face. "Stop it, don't cry. I'm not worth it."

Astoria realised that she was crying again, and hadn't even noticed. Everything was changing so fast. Angrily, she dashed away a tear. "You know what I think? I think you don't know _what_ you're worth."

"You're probably right," Draco said, and left.

* * *

"Finally alone," Ginny said meaningfully.

"We're not talking about this," Hermione maintained.

"Of course we are," Ginny took the seat that Ron had been in minutes before. "We only have a while before they get back with the chessboard – though, longer than they think, since I hid a Knight. That should buy us time while they look for it."

Hermione couldn't hold in a small laugh. "You're evil."

"Just determined," Ginny said calmly, "And intelligent enough to realise you don't love Ron anymore. Not the way you did."

"No."

"You love Draco, and now he's back," Ginny spoke slowly, like she was explaining things to an infant. "So go talk to him. I don't even know why you think you're broken up, it doesn't _sound _like he broke up with you."

Hermione swallowed, feeling a lump in her throat. "No, he definitely broke up with me. Around the point where he was blaming me for the death of the woman he loved."

"He loves _you_."

"He was a wreck when she died," Hermione said miserably. "And it doesn't even matter whether he loved her, or in what way, or whether it was more than he loved me. Because he doesn't love me anymore. He thinks it's my fault she's dead. He blames me."

"_Maybe_ he blamed you," Ginny allowed, "That was a week ago, straight after a traumatic event! Of course he wasn't thinking clearly! You have to go see him and find out what he thinks _now_."

"What for?" Hermione said, "So we can get back together for the fourth time? We've broken up three times, Ginny, and each time…" her voice broke a little. "When I'm with him, it's – it's beautiful. Everything's alive, magical, incredible. But then we break up and it's even worse because he takes a part of me with him. The first time, it hurt; the second time, it was agonising; and the third time – for the last week I haven't been able to enjoy anything. All the fun in my life… gone. I can't care about schoolwork… I can barely manage the energy to care about you, Harry and Ron."

"So get back together with him," Ginny urged.

"Even if I could…" Hermione said heavily. "If something's failed three times, that's a pretty good guarantee that it's not going to suddenly succeed. There's no saying which goes 'fourth time's the charm'. And it _hurts_ so much, so incredibly when I lose him, that I can't handle it happening again. It's not worth it. _He's _not worth it."

"You don't believe that," Ginny accused.

A voice came from the door. "No, you don't." It was Ron, standing there, stunned. Harry stood behind him looking sheepish. "You love him… I didn't know."

"Ron, I'm so -"

"If you say sorry I'll hex you," Ron warned her. He closed his eyes for a second, dealing with this news. "Okay. Okay. I just needed to… think. And I'm okay with this. I am." He swallowed hard. "I should have known."

"No, Ron -" Hermione had never felt so helpless looking at him. "Listen, I -"

"Hermione, you're -" Ron started to say, his face going red.

"You know what?" Ginny spoke up unpredictably, "Sometimes I think guys are all just idiots, and we're idiots for letting them be in charge of us." She turned to Ron. "Yes, Hermione's moved on. Which is the traditional response to the person you love moving on, like you did with Carly. It's not her fault and she shouldn't have to feel guilty." Ron opened his mouth, and then closed it, shooting Hermione an apologetic look that nevertheless managed to convey heartbreak.

"I'm not in charge of you," Harry said, sounding vaguely offended.

"Really?" Ginny said. "Because I remember spending _day after day after day_ in here, with you expecting me to entertain you. And I'd suggest a whole list of activities until you'd choose one you deemed suitable." She took a deep breath. "And for the record? If we get married – which won't be until _at least_ our late twenties – my job is as important as yours. We might not live in England – just because we're born here doesn't mean we have to die here. And we certainly won't live within a hundred miles of my family, as much as I love them. We will _not _have more than three kids, and I will _never_ allow you to name a defenceless child Albus!"

"Whoa," Harry said weakly. "Um. Been saving that up for a while?"

"Ever since sixth year when you first told me you wanted to be James Potter version II," Ginny flared, ignoring how insensitive she was being. Ron and Hermione just watched with their mouths open. "About how you'll be a young auror with a redheaded wife, living in a cottage! _Listen _to me. That's the past, not the future. I want us to make our own way and do our own thing, be our own people." She paused for a second, turning sad. "And if you don't want that… then find someone else to live out your Oedipal fantasies with."

There was a long pause. "That's not my fantasy, Gin," Harry said very softly. "You're my fantasy. I just… it's hard for me to _not_ idolise my parents, since I never met them. But if you want us to – to do things differently – travelling instead of settling down right away, and waiting to get married, and no kids named Albus – then I'm all for it. So long as we get the happy ever after at the end," he smiled at her.

To Hermione's astonished gaze, it seemed like Ginny literally flew into Harry's arms. Their kiss started out as slightly inappropriate in front of their friends, and quickly moved to the about-to-get-naked kind.

Hermione coughed uncomfortably, edging out of the room. "Well," she said to Ron weakly as he followed her, "Looks like they've, uh, sorted things out."

"Maybe we should do the same," he suggested, shutting the door behind them.

"They seem pretty sorted," Hermione said quietly. "I'm sorry, Ron, though. If it's any consolation…"

Ron held up a hand. "Don't tell me things could have worked out," he commanded, "That wouldn't be any consolation at all, to know we could have been happy if I hadn't been an idiot." He hesitated, looking young. "I suspected that you didn't love me when you went to check on Malfoy after we got out of the hotel, but Harry told me I was wrong."

Hermione let out a surprised laugh. "How would _Harry_ know?"

"He was there when you were sick," Ron said awkwardly. "And apparently you kept saying… 'I love you Ron, don't go, I love you'. So we thought…"

"Oh," Hermione said, "I'm sorry. Oh my God!" A thought suddenly occurred to her. "Draco took care of me while I was sick – if he heard that -"

"He must think you love me, or at the very least be hurt," Ron completed her thought. "Maybe you should go talk to him about it… set things straight."

"You're dealing with this awfully well," Hermione remarked cautiously.

Ron sighed. "For more than a week, I had horrible thoughts in my head. And the most horrible thing about them is that some of them were my thoughts, just – amplified. I think she even changed my memories of some bits – I can remember _hating_ Harry, wanting him to die, thinking I should _kill _him. Hating you, Ginny, everyone. I think… I think I've had enough of those kind of emotions. I've had enough of anger."

"I'm glad," Hermione said softly, "I mean, not glad that you went through all that. But glad that you're… wiser now, I suppose. Accepting."

Ron managed his first smile in a week. "I'm sure it won't last. Now go find Malfoy."

"Will you be okay -"

"I'll be fine here on my own," Ron said. "_Go_."

* * *

Ginny couldn't keep the smile off her face as she skipped down the corridor. She couldn't believe things had worked out so well. She hadn't fully forgiven Harry yet, but she loved him, and suddenly the future she could see was bright and totally uncertain. She could be anywhere in ten years – but while that had always been true, now it seemed possible she could be anywhere _with Harry_. Instead of just married in a cottage with a toddler.

"Ginny," Blaise said, appearing out of nowhere.

Ginny gasped, her hand flying up. "Blaise, you nearly gave me a heart-attack. What are you doing standing around outside the Gryffindor dormitory anyway?"

"Waiting for you," Blaise said, falling into step beside her. "I think we need to talk."

"What about?"

"Us," Blaise said simply. At her look, he added, "I know there was no us. But maybe that's what we need to talk about."

"We're not right for each other," Ginny said. "We never were."

"I know," Blaise said, "I'm underhanded and lying and I can't play Quidditch, and to be honest, I _like_ all those qualities. I'm a devious bastard, but I did _try_ to change for you."

"I didn't try to change for you," Ginny admitted, "But I already was changed when we were friends, because I was such a mess."

"I think maybe it was a fantasy," Blaise commented thoughtfully. "Big brave hero saves damsel in distress."

"I did want to be saved," Ginny agreed, "But to be honest I'm pretty sick of being the damsel in distress. I can kick ass too you know."

"I know," Blaise said, "And I'm not really cut out to be the hero, either. Too much depth and complexity for me. I value my shallowness. I shouldn't have tried to look for some meaningful relationship."

Ginny laughed. "You oblivious moron," she said, not unkindly, "You already have something meaningful."

"I wish people would stop calling me oblivious and moronic," Blaise said mournfully. "Also, what are you talking about?"

"Remember when we defeated the photographer?"

"No, I'd completely forgotten it," Blaise said sarcastically. "What photographer?"

Ginny ignored him. "After that, I had a broken leg and a Silencio spell on me. But you went and helped Astoria first."

Blaise stopped suddenly. "_What_?"

"I could have been dying, and she could have had a paper cut, and you _still _would have gone to check she was okay first," Ginny said, an amused look on her face as she stopped too to avoid leaving him behind. "Like I would for Harry. That's when I realised you loved her."

"I _what_?"

"You went crazy when she was being tortured," Ginny continued, hiding her tiny twinge of jealousy. It was stupid to feel even a little jealous, but she couldn't help it. "All planning went out the window. Gone. God, Blaise, did it never once occur to you? Myself, I never thought I could like her after all this, but she was brave in that fight, and she has style. I've pretty much forgiven her for her part in everything. I think she'll be good for you."

Blaise just continued standing there, a look of absolute astonishment on his handsome face.

Ginny waved at him and continued on, a spring in her step.

* * *

"I'm looking for Draco," Hermione said nervously to the first Slytherin to exit the dungeon. "Can you get him for me, please?" He gave her the finger. "Or, of course, you can do eighteen weeks of detention." The boy scampered back inside immediately.

"Well, well," Astoria stepped outside a few minutes later, "Hello, Granger."

"I'm waiting for Draco," Hermione said shortly.

"To tell him of your renewed devotion to the Weasel?" Astoria drawled, her eyes narrowing in dislike. It was this bitch's fault Draco was leaving, and Astoria had no intention of forgiving that. "I think he got the memo."

"That's none of your business," Hermione said tightly. "Just get Draco for me, alright."

"I can't," Astoria said, "He's gone."

"Gone where?"

"Gone home," Astoria elaborated, "Left Hogwarts. Quit school."

"_What?_" Hermione stared at Astoria. "He can't have. He wouldn't."

"He left you a gift," Astoria remembered. She rummaged around in the satchel she was holding. "Open it and get the hell out of here." She passed it over.

"Is he leaving because of me?" Hermione said, her eyes starting to swim with tears. "Because he blames me?"

"Blames you for attaching yourself to the Weasel like a tick?" Astoria snorted. "Not nearly as much as I do. Do you honestly think he's better than Draco? He's not. He's a loser, especially compared to Draco."

"Blames me for Isabelle's death, I meant," Hermione said miserably, staring down at the small package.

Astoria stared at her. "He doesn't blame you for that. He doesn't blame anyone for that, except possibly himself."

"Then why'd he leave for a week?" Hermione challenged. She started to pull at the package, opening it.

"To avoid the sight of you all over the Weasel," Astoria said caustically, "Which is what you have been doing, according to all my sources and some rather disturbing sightings of my own over the past few hours."

"Ron and I are _friends_!" Hermione flared. The package fell open, but Hermione managed to catch the contents.

It was much better knitting then the scarf he'd made her – clearly, he'd practised. It wasn't perfect – nowhere near – but at least it was recognisable as what it was. A single knitted sock, with button eyes and a cute little nose. Hermione froze, staring at it, and the world slowed down around her.

Screw the risk of getting hurt. He was worth it. Honestly, he might be worth anything. And it was time to make things right. "Where is he?" she heard herself say from far away.

"I told you -"

"_Which way did he go_?"

"Across the lake to the carriage drop, he's apparating from there," Astoria said quickly. Hermione's expression seemed to have convinced her of something. "Go quickly. No – wait a second!" Astoria disappeared into the dungeons for a second and then emerged. "I Accio-d it," she said by way of explanation.

"Thank you," Hermione said through numb lips, grabbing the broom. To Astoria's obvious surprise, she got on it straight away, even though they were inside.

"Er, do you know _how_ to -" Astoria started to say uneasily, but then Hermione took off.

She banged into several walls and scraped her shoulder badly on her way out the too-small window. Hermione was a terrible Quidditch player because of her lack of flying skills.

Nevertheless, she was on her way.

* * *

Draco was standing at the carriage area, trying to gear himself up to Apparate away. It was hard to imagine leaving Hogwarts forever – it had been a second home for so many years. It had contained the greatest friends he'd had, the worst enemies, the most terrible actions and most amazing moments. The grounds and the castle were beautiful, yes, but to him the greater beauty would always be the marvels Hogwarts had contained for him.

He sighed and was about to turn on the stop when he heard a screeching noise. Turning in the direction, he only just managed to duck in time to stop a maniac on a broom from running him down. The broom got lower as it circled around the lack again, sending up a giant spray of water, soaking the rider.

Draco watched as the broom came to a sudden stop in front of him, sending the unfortunate rider staggering into one of the many bushes surrounding the lake edge. He stepped forward to pull the person up and then gasped as he recognised her.

Hermione was soaked to the skin, her clothes bedraggled and torn. Her hair looked like a badly made nest, her face was bright red and scratched by thorns and she had a clear bruise appearing on her right cheekbone. She looked, in fact, like a hobo who'd just been in a drunken brawl that had ended in a fountain.

"Hermione?" he said hesitantly, honestly wondering.

She staggered upright. "You!" she said, dizzily jabbing a finger at him, "You can't _leave_!"

"I can't stay," he said, reaching out to steady her again. "You'll be fine, you've got Weasel."

"Fuck Weasel!" said Hermione, still giddy. "I mean, except, don't, because he's my _friend_. He's only my friend. That's all." Finally she managed to straighten up, and return to sensibility. "I'm sorry, this is all coming out wrong. I just need you to know that I - I love you."

Draco let out a harsh laugh, surprising both of them. "Has Weasley gotten another new girlfriend?"

"No, but I wouldn't care if he did," Hermione said strongly. "This isn't revenge on someone this time, Draco. This is real. This is me, standing here, saying that I want us to start something real. Something that lasts."

Draco closed his eyes. "You know, I never wanted to tell you this, but when you were sick you made it very clear who you loved."

"That was ages ago," Hermione said desperately.

"A few weeks ago," Draco corrected.

Hermione shook her head. "No. _No_. A few weeks can be ages, especially considering all we've been through. I had the chance to be with Ron, he made it clear earlier today, and I turned it down flat. Because Ron isn't _you_. And what I said while I was sick was just the memories of old dreams – what I feel for you is now, it's real, it's the present. And the future, if you're willing to give it a chance. I love you."

"I love you too," Draco leant forward and kissed her.

There was a whole world in the kiss – a whole future. To Hermione it felt like the lights came back on in her head, and suddenly she could see exactly how happy she was. How happy she could always be, so long as she had him.

They stood there entwined for a long time, until the sun started to dip below the horizon.

* * *

"Do I have to?" Draco said, pleadingly.

"Yes," Hermione said sternly, "You have to, especially if you want quid pro quo."

"Fine," Draco sighed. He strode over to the two other boys, who were watching him cautiously from their place at the Gryffindor Dining Hall table. "Hello, Potter, Weasley."

"Hello?" Harry said.

Draco tried to think of a non-contentious topic. None came to mind. Fine, he'd stick with the banal, they'd probably appreciate that. Not that he cared. "How are you?"

There was a moment's silence at the ridiculousness of the question. "How do you think I am, Malfoy?" Ron replied coldly. "Your little friend mind-controlled me into losing the love of my life, nearly killing my best friend, acting like a dick, and having sex with _Carly_. Who's pretty much stalking me now."

"Oh," Draco said in a cheerful way, "Could be worse."

Harry drew in a quick breath and grabbed Ron's arm to stop him reaching for his wand. Ron let his arm relax, but then stood up confrontationally, dragging Harry up as well. "How could it be worse, ferret?" he said furiously.

Draco pretended to consider it. "Well," he said, drawing out the word for dramatic effect, "She could be pregnant."

Like she was a magnet, both Harry and Ron turned their eyes towards Carly, who was glaring at them from the Hufflepuff table. Then they looked back at Draco. Ron's face was horrified. "Malfoy," Harry said warningly, looking at his best friend in concern. Ron was incredibly sensitive about everything that had happened, and Harry had no idea how he'd take the taunt.

Ron's face turned red, his eyes opening wide and then squeezing closed again in what seemed to be absolute fury. His mouth opened, and he started to reach for his wand.

Then he hesitated, and burst out laughing.

Surprising Harry, Draco, and everyone else in the room that had thought there was about to be a duel, Ron roared with laughter. He nearly collapsed with the strength of the wheezing cackles that burst out of him. Like it was a signal, Harry let himself laugh too then. Even Draco let his lips twitch, which he considered to be a major concession.

"We're not friends," Ron said finally, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "We're never going to be."

"Tough cookies, Hermione wants us to be friends," Draco said, hidden steel in his voice. "Suck it up. So long as we have her in common, we'll be civil." He held out his hand.

After a minute, Ron shook hands with him reluctantly. "Fine, alright," he grumbled. Harry, who had honestly thought there would be blood, let out a silent sigh of relief. "But I still think you're an evil ferrety bastard, and when you hurt Hermione I'll kill you."

"Well, I still think you'd compare unfavourably with a stuffed penguin in the intellect department," Draco said kindly. "And _if_ I ever hurt Hermione, she's quite capable of killing me and knitting my intestines into a fetching scarf all by herself. Your assistance will be not be needed." Draco paused, looking thoughtful.

"Don't call me an idiot," growled Ron.

"You are one," Draco said, abandoning tact altogether. "But on the other hand, you're also the only guy I know who's personally experienced lesbian sex, so you get points for that."

Ron nearly smiled at that, but stopped himself in time. He knew he wasn't supposed to find it amusing, but a week of everyone tip-toeing around him like he was going to be the next Voldemort made him grateful for anyone treating him normally. Even if it was Malfoy. "And you get points for saving my life," he returned, "I suppose I do owe you for that." Draco's eyes gleamed. Ron, realising what he'd said, rapidly back-tracked. "Except, of course, I saved your life twice last year, so _you_ actually owe me."

"No you didn't. When did you save my life?"

"The Fiendfyre?"

"I was on Potter's broom, not yours, and I've already paid him back for that, I saved his life last week," Draco pointed out. "Though, in fairness, pretty much _everybody_ saved Potter's life last week, he was so useless. Even you probably saved him."

"Hey," Harry said, annoyed. "I'm not useless. I would have defeated you when we duelled if I hadn't gotten hit over the head." He thought about what he'd said, and winced.

"Yes," Draco said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Excellent work. You nearly took out an ally but then concussion brought you down. You did good, Potter, it takes real skill to get concussion at the right moment."

"I saved you from a Death Eater in the Battle of Hogwarts!" Ron burst in, suddenly remembering the second time. "You were being your usual cowardly self, begging the guy not to hurt you, and then I knocked him out."

"I remember that," Draco said, nodding. "I was trying to get him to trust me enough to turn his back, and then I was going to stab him."

"_Stab_ him?"

"I was carrying a knife, all us Death Eaters were." Draco mulled about that for a second. "I wonder where that knife ended up. But the point is, you didn't save me." He thought about it a little more, his forehead creasing. "Were you the one who _punched _me?"

"That's a story for another day," Ron said hurriedly, eyeing Draco's expression. "Oh, look, here's 'Mione."

"Hi," Hermione beamed, sitting down next to them. Draco slipped his arm around her waist. He noticed the flash of sorrow in Weasley's eyes, and understood it. His rival's mature reaction to Hermione making her choice had surprised Draco, and actually greatly raised Weasley in his estimation. Perhaps he still hoped Hermione would come back to him, or that Draco would break her heart. If so, he was wrong, but Draco was just grateful he hadn't verbally attacked Hermione and broken off their friendship. If hanging out with a gingery dim-wit made Hermione happy, Draco would put up with it.

He turned his head to look down at her, and found her smiling up at him. "You look deep in thought," she said, tilting her head. "Everything okay?"

Draco dropped a kiss on her lips. "Everything's perfect," he said honestly.

"Oh, stop it with the touchy-feely," Blaise said, taking the seat next to Harry. Astoria took the next one, and Draco noticed with mild interest that they were smiling and holding hands. "It's bad enough we're going to have sit next to Weaselette and Potter for the rest of the year."

"What was that about me?" Ginny said threateningly, sitting down across from them. Harry leaned across the table to kiss her on the cheek and she blushed.

"Just that your saccharine romances horrify us," Astoria said so blandly that Ginny couldn't stop herself from giggling.

"Why are you even sitting here?" Ron wanted to know, "We're not _friends_."

"Sure we are," said Astoria, in the tones of one attending a funeral. "As much as it pains me to admit it. There are some things you can't go through without becoming friends, and stopping a nefarious, murderous plot just happens to be one of them."

"Destroying an entire hotel is another one," Blaise added. He released Astoria's hand to start eating. "Admit it, we're friends."

"I don't want to be your friend," Ron said tactlessly.

"Not exactly keen on being yours either," Astoria said. "But unfortunately, you lot come as a package deal, so as long as I like Weaselette and Granger we're stuck with you."

"What about me?" Harry broke in.

"Stop pretending you're relevant, concussion boy," Blaise said, grabbing a breadstick.

Draco leaned back and watched them bicker, well on the way to establishing a comfortable rapport. There was something beautiful about the simplicity of the moment – a tasty meal, all his friends laughing and squabbling, his arm around the girl he loved.

It was the happy ending Slytherins weren't supposed to get, according to the girl who had, in a roundabout way, gotten him his. It was incredible.

Everything was, as he'd said, perfect.

* * *

And they all lived happily, angrily, joyfully, sadly, contrarily, amazingly, and most of all _passionately_ ever after.

* * *

**So yes, the story is over. I hope you think the ending is good enough, I worked very hard on it.**

**A Perilous Game started as a highly-predictable Draco-seduces-Hermione-to-screw-with-her fanfiction, but somewhere along the way it stopped being that. Personally I blame all the secondary characters for deciding to get personalities, which is not something I originally intended. However, I loved writing the new story much more than I would have the old one, since I was surprised when some stuff happened too.**

**Thank you to everyone who's reviewed. I love reviews - whenever I thought 'screw this fic, it's too much effort' I went and read a couple of reviews and was instantly fired up again. Everyone who's reviewed - and especially any of you who've stayed to the very end - deserve massive amounts of chocolate.**

**Thanks to JK Rowling. That's obvious. I didn't always like what she did with Draco, but at least she made him sound hot.**

**It's funny I should finish this today, because tomorrow is my college's annual Hogwarts party. My block got Gryffindor this year - I'm hopeful we might even win Quidditch (the snitch is a guy painted gold and greased up, by the way, and we have to tackle him. It's possibly even less safe than the real game).**

**Again, thanks to you all. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

**NOTE MUCH LATER: **JarethGirl30028 on here made four very awesome banners for this story, if anyone wants to check them out at www. facebook .com/media/set/?set=a.198659650223636.45855.100002388082917&type=1&l=a4edcc86cf. (delete spaces)


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